IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  I4S80 

(7)6)  872-4503 


t'  c^, 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


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D 


D 


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n 


n 


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Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagee 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pellicul6e 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


Coloured  maps/ 

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Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


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v/ 


Coloured  pages/ 
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obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible 


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10X                              14X                              18X 

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22X 

26X 

SOX 

J 

12X                              16X                             20X                              24X                             28X                             32X 

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to  the  generosity  of: 

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filmage. 


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sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
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sion  and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


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papier  est  ImprimAe  sont  filmAs  en  commen^ant 
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derniire  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinta 
d'impression  ou  d'illustretion,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exempleires 
originaux  sont  filmis  en  commen^ant  par  la 
premiere  pege  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustretion  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


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shall  contain  the  symbol  — »-  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED "),  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaltra  sur  la 
dernlAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  -^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 


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different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  lerge  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  es 
required.  The  following  diegrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  utre 
filmAs  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diff^rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA,  il  est  1\\m6  d  partir 
de  I'engle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droits, 
et  de  heut  en  bes,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'imeges  n<icessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m^thode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


I 


I 

I 


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MEMOIMES 


or 


EUFUS  CIIOATE 


WITH   SOJIK  CONhlUEHATIt.N  OF 


HIS  STUDIES,  MKTIIODS,  AND  OPINIONS.  AND  OF 
HIS  STYLE  AS  A  SPEAKER  AND  WlilTEU 


BY 


JOSEPH  NEILSON 


BOSTON 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

New  York:   II   East  Seventeenth  Street 

CtlK  RiberfliUe  Prrorf,  CambnUoe 

1884 


lit 


V\\<^     .Cs4% 


CopyrlRhf,  1884, 
Br  JOtiEl'H   NillLSOX. 

^11  rights  reserved 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge  t 
Elcctrotyped  ana  Printed  b,  U.  0.  UouThton  &  Co. 


or 


1290 


0 


To 

TriE  MEMORY  OF  'HIE   l.ATE 

ISAAC   GKANT  TJIOAIPSON, 

AT  WHOS£  SUaUESTfON   IT  WAS    C.VDEBTABM, 

IS    rJEUICATiJD. 


COjS^TRIBUTORS. 


JOSHUA  M.  VAN  COTT. 

ALFRED  P.  PUTNAM,  I).  D. 

WILLIAM  STIiONG. 

KICIIARD  S.  STOIIPS,  D.  D. 
MATT.  IL  CARPENTER. 
JAME.S  T.  FIELDS. 
HENRY  K.  OLIVER. 
W.  C.  BOVDEN. 
PROFESSOR  WASHBURN. 
ENOCH  L.  FANCHER. 


GEORGE  H.  NESMITH. 

PROFESSOR   SANBORN. 

EDWARD  B.  GILLETT. 
NATHAN  CROSBY. 
ROSWELL  D.  HITCHCOCK,  D.D. 
EDWARD  E.  PRATT. 
OTIS  P.  LORD. 
WILLIAM  W.  STORY. 
GEORGE  P.  MARSH. 
JOHN  WINSLOW. 


AND  OTHERS. 


i  Uiil 


I 


PREFACE. 


»'■' 


In  this  series  of  articles,  I  have  sought  to  re- 
vive somewhat  the  love  and  reverence  due  to 
the  memory  of  Rufus  Choate.  There  was,  in- 
deed, little  hope  of  doing  justice  to  his  learning 
and  genius.  That  had  been  attempted  by  abler 
hands.  But  I  was  led  to  believe  that,  with  the 
aid  of  others,  his  gifts  and  services,  the  devotion, 
dignity,  simplicity,  and  usefulness  of  his  life  might 
be  so  recalled  and  illustrated  as  to  be  useful  to  my 
professional  brethren,  and  interesting  to  the  gen- 
eral reader.  It  was  also  believed  that  facts  and 
incidents,  resting  in  the  silent  memories  of  his 
friends,  might  be  called  out  and  preserved ;  and 
herein  lay  the  motive  for  taking  up  the  subject. 

With  these  views,  I  sought  the  cooperation  of 
gentlemen  known  to  have  been  intimate  with 
him.  The  kindness  with  which  my  applications 
were  treated  left  me  no  reason  to  regret  the 
office  which  I  had  assumed.  I  received  many 
letters  approving  of  my  purpose.  But  some  of 
my  correspondents,  advanced  in  years  and  feeble 


PREFACE. 


in  health,  were  not  equal  to  the  labor  proposed. 
Their  letters,  written  with  tremulous  hands,  can- 
not be  read  without  emotion.  They  refer  to  Mr. 
Choate  in  affectionate  terms,  and  some  of  them 
express  the  hope  —  now  known  to  be  delusive  — 
that  returning  strength  might  enable  them  to 
comply  with  my  request. 

The  writers  whose  contributions  are  now  pub- 
lished held  various  relations  to  Mr.  Choate, — 
his  associates  in  the  college,  his  students  in  the 
law  office,  his  professional  brethren,  his  friends,  — 
those  friends  who  were  with  him  in  hours  of  joy 
and  of  sorrow,  and  those  who  saw  and  heard  him 
occasionally,  and  knew  him  in  the  supreme  felicity 
and  attraction  of  his  genius  and  character. 

In  respect  to  almost  any  other  memory,  those 
writers  might  not  have  been  inclined  to  turn  aside 
from  their  favorite  studies  or  official  labors  to  take 
part  in  a  commemoration.  But,  in  this  instance,  a 
loving  spirit  moved  them,  and  presided  over  their 
work.  With  the  loyalty  of  disciples,  and  the  faith- 
fulness due  to  a  trust,  they  give  delineations  of 
Mr.  Choate.  The  poetical,  the  practical,  the  ear- 
nest, the  loyal,  the  serious,  the  reverential  traits 
of  his  character,  as  revealed  at  home  and  abroad, 
are  set  forth  with  freedom  and  fidelity. 

Mr.  Edwin  P.  Whipple,  who  had  written  of  Mr. 
Choate  as  early  as  1847,  was  requested  to  take  up 


I 

"4 


•^1 


PREFACE. 


XI 


hose 
side 
ake 
e,  a 
leir 
ith. 
of 

ar- 
aits 

ad, 

VIr. 
up 


the  subject  again.  After  some  time  and  prepara- 
tion, he  wrote  nie  that  —  the  materials  having  ac- 
cumulated on  his  hands  to  an  extent  not  adapted 
to  my  use  —  he  had  concluded  to  send  his  paper 
to  the  Harpers,  and  was  pleased  to  say,  "  I  have 
taken  great  delight  in  your  series  of  articles  and 
communications."  His  recollections  were  published 
in  the  "  Half -Hour  Series," 

Mr.  Augustus  Russ,  of  the  Boston  bar,  had  the 
kindness  to  send  me  a  list  of  all  the  cases  —  the 
titles,  books,  and  pages  —  given  in  the  law  re- 
ports, in  which  Mr.  Choate  had  appeared  as 
counsel.  I  was  much  impressed  by  his  courtesy, 
as  the  clerical  force  in  his  office  must  have  been 
severely  taxed  in  making  that  collection. 

I  take  special  pleasure  in  expressing  my  grate- 
ful sense  of  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Brown,  President 
of  Hamilton  College.  In  the  Preface  to  the  last 
edition  of  his  ''  Life  of  Rufus  Choate,"  he  makes 
favorable  mention  of  the  papers  which  I  furnished 
to  the  "Law  Journal"  in  1877  and  1878,  and  ex- 
presses the  hope  that  they  "  will  be  published  in 
a  form  easily  accessible  to  the  many  who  would 
delight  to  read  them." 

I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  Edward  Ellerton  Pratt, 
Mr.  Choate's  son-in-law,  for  special  and  valuable 
information. 

My  thanks  are  due  to  Messrs.  Little,  Brown  and 


Xll 


PREFA  CE. 


I  ' ! 


Company  for  allowing  me  to  use,  in  my  Appen- 
dix, Mr.  Choate's  Remarks  at  the  meeting  of  the 
bar  on  the  occasion  of  Mr.  Webster's  death. 

Some  of  my  articles  were  submitted  to  the  late 
Emory  Washburn.  In  a  letter  received  from  him, 
written  a  few  days  before  his  death,  he  said,  "  I 
am  glad  that  Mr.  Choate  is  taking  his  true  position 
as  the  scholar,  the  orator,  and  the  jurist,  among 
the  men  of  genius  and  learning  of  our  country. 
I  am  glad  that  you  have  told  the  public,  in  cool- 
ness, candor,  and  discrimination,  just  what  sort  of 
a  man  he  was,  and  his  true  claims  up  in  their  ad- 
miration and  respect." 

It  was  gratifying  to  receive  like  suggestions 
from  gentlemen  of  distinction,  residing  in  differ- 
ent States,  to  whom  I  had  not  applied  for  help. 
I  am  induced  to  make  an  extract  from  one  of 
these  letters,  as  readers  will  be  desirous  of  know- 
ing the  opinion  which  the  late  William  Cullen 
Bryant  entertained  of  Mr.  Choate.  He  says, 
"  The  lives  of  distinguished  lawyers  and  great 
orators  are  peculiarly  interesting ;  and  in  the 
subject  of  your  memoir  you  have  a  most  remark- 
able man  of  that  class,  endowed  with  the  gift  of 
persuasion  to  a  degree  of  which  there  are  very 
few  instances  on  record." 

An  application  to  the  late  William  Adams, 
D.  D.,  LL.  D.,  President  of  the  Union  Theological 


li 


I  -I 


PREFACE. 


Xlll 


of 

en 

at 
Ihe 
k- 
of 

y 


Seminary,  for  his  recollections  of  Mr.  Choate,  was 
made  at  a  time  when  the  burden  of  work  and  duty 
on  his  hands  was  too  ^reat  for  his  strenii-th.     His 


lett 


eply  contained  the  first   information  I 

To  the  sorrow  which 


une 
had  of  his  declining  health, 
the  fact  of  his  illness  gave  me  was  added  the 
regret  that  I  had  troubled  him  with  such  an  ap- 
plication. But  his  letter  was  so  genial  and  kind, 
the  tone  and  spirit  of  it  so  cheerful  —  as  if  pres- 
ent troubles  were  chastened  by  hope  and  trust  — 
that  I  almost  ceased  to  regret  my  untimely  inter- 
ference. As  I  valued  highly  the  few  words  he 
was  able  to  write  about  Mr.  Choate,  I  was  grateful 
for  permission  to  use  them  as  I  might  see  fit.  In 
the  last  clause  of  his  letter,  he  says  :  — 

"  I  feel  a  profound  interest  in  everything  per- 
taining to  Mr.  Choate,  and  sincerely  regret  my 
inability  to  add  anything  to  your  own  valuable 
recollections.  It  was  not  my  good  fortune  to  hear 
Mr.  Choate  in  public  assemblies,  or  at  the  bar, 
very  often.  My  acquaintance  with  him  was  per- 
sonal and  domestic,  and  my  admiration  for  him 
unbounded.  I  heard  his  New  England  Society 
oration  in  New  York  (December,  1843),  bein^  the 
chaplain  on  that  occasion,  and  remember  v  ell  his 
turning  to  me  for  an  explanation  of  the  extraor- 
dinary bursts  of  applause  which  prevented  his  ad- 
vance three  several  times,  after  he  had  uttered 


iill 


XIV 


PREFACE. 


what  may  have  seemed  to  him  very  simple  sen- 
tences. You  will  readily  admit,  my  dear  sir,  the 
reasonableness  of  what  I  have  stated  as  excusing 
me  from  a  service  which  otherwise  would  have 
been  a  pleasure  and  an  honor.  Thanking  you 
again  for  the  enjoyment  I  have  had,  in  hours  of 
illness,  in  reperusing  the  brilliant  oratory  of  Mr. 
Choate  in  the  books  you  have  so  kindly  sent  me, 
and  in  reading  your  contributions  to  his  fame  in 
the  '  Journal,'  I  remain,"  etc. 

When  some  of  my  articles,  and  of  the  letters 
received,  were  sent  to  the  "Law  Journal,"  this 
form  of  publication  had  not  been  contemplated. 
I  have  since  rewritten  parts  of  those  articles, 
omitted  parts,  and  have  taken  up  some  addit'onal 
topics.  As  it  was  not  my  purpose  to  dwell  upon 
subjects  which  my  correspondents  had  considered, 
I  have  had  no  occasion  to  speak  of  Mr.  Choate's 
studies  at  Dartmouth  College  or  at  the  Law  School 
in  Cambridge,  little  occasion  to  speak  of  his  genius 
as  an  orator  and  advocate,  of  his  learning  as  a 
jurist,  of  the  wit  and  wisdom  which  characterized 
his  conversation,  or  of  the  qualities  which  drew 
others  to  him  in  love  and  sympathy.  Even  his 
birthplace  has  been  so  described  by  one  who  made 
a  loving  pilgrimage  to  it  that  the  "  Hill  by  the 
Sea  "  seems  as  if  visibly  present. 

The  reader  will  also  find  —  it  may  be  contrary 


PREFACE. 


X'V 


'tt 


to  expectation  —  that,  owing  to  the  nature  and 
variety  of  Mr.  Choate's  gifts  and  pecuHarities, 
more  than  twenty  correspondents  have  found 
material  for  their  narrations  without  repeating 
each  other. 

Mr.  Choate's  use  of  language  has  excited  so 
much  remark  that  I  have  deemed  it  proper  to 
give  that  subject  special  consideration.  I  have 
caused  his  entire  vocabulary,  as  found  in  print, 
to  be  collected,  and  so  classified  as  to  show  its 
constituents.  With  a  view  especially  to  the  rela- 
tive proportions  of  Anglo-Saxon  and  of  classical 
terms  used,  I  have  also  taken  twenty  notable 
papers,  —  arguments,  orations,  essays,  —  by  minds 
of  the  first  order  within  the  last  hundred  years,  in 
England  and  America,  and  have  had  them  sub- 
jected to  the  same  analysis. 

The  illustrations  —  a  likeness  of  Mr.  Choate, 
and  views  of  his  birthplace  and  of  his  grave  — 
have  been  approved  by  friends  of  the  family. 

J.  N. 

Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 


hi 


■':n 


'# 


CONTENTS. 


ciiapti:r  I. 

Ancestry  ANr>  Birth.  —  IIomk  Influence.  —  Early  I'uom- 
ISE.  —  Ad.mlssion  to  the  Bar,  —  Practice  at  Danvkrs 
AND  at  Salem.  —  Choate  and  Weuster.  —  Criminal 
Cases.  —  Popular  Fallacy.  —  Krskine.  —  Counsel  in 
Criminal  Casks  necessary  ;  Familiar  Instances.  — 
Opinions  ok  Professors  Washrurn  and  Parsons.  —  The 
Case  of  J'rofkssor  Werster.  —  Statements  of  Mr. 
Pratt  and  Judue  Lord.  —  Duty  and  Privilege  of  an 
Advocate        


PAGE 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Study  of  Law.  —  Powers  of  Memory.  —  Inference 
OF  Unknown  P'acts,  and  as  to  the  Characters  of 
Jurors  and  Witnesses.  —  Silent  Conference  with  a 
Juryman.  —  Opinions  of  Professor  Parsons,  Mr.  Lor- 
ING,  Mr.  D.\na,  and  Judge  Sprague.  —  The  Number  of 
Mr.  Choate's  Cases.  —  IIis  Treatment  of  Witnesses   . 


23 


CHAPTER  III. 

Eminent  Men  misunderstood.  —  The  Advocate  and  Mis- 
taken Critics.  —  As  to  creating  a  Taste  for  a  Pecul- 
iar Style.  —  How  readily  Choate  was  understood.  — 
Alexander  H.  Stephens  and  Professor  Sanborn  as 
to  Choate.  —  The  Born  or  Natural  Orator.  —  The 
Office  of  the  Orator 44 

b 


!| 


i 


M 


xvm 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


PAOK 


Vacations  for  IIkahinc.  —  Stuuiks  with  Rooks  and  with- 
out   TIIK.M. —  CoNVKUSATIONS    WITH    Mil.    I'UATT    AM>    Mlt. 

Caki-kntku.  —  Soi.icnx'DK   as  to   Imi'Kovkmkxt.  —  Tasti;, 

IlI.USTKATIONS    ok.  —  FuU.MATlON    OF    CUAUACTKU. — COLO- 
NIAL Exi'eiuf:nck 03 


CIIAPTEll  V. 

Classical   Studies.  —  Anciknt   Gueeck.  —  The   Saxons.- 
The  Latin.  —  Knolish  in  India.  —  Macaulay's  Seuvke. 

—  As     TO     Et^UIVALENTS     IN    SAXON     FOU     SoME     OK     OUK 

WoitDS 79 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Study  of  Wokds.  —  The  Pekcentage  of  Anglo- 
Saxon,  Latin,  and  Greek  used  iiy  Mk.  Ciioate  and 
OTHER  Eminent  Scholars. — The  Methods  ok  Sharon 
Turner  and  George  P.  Marsh.  —  Tables  as  to  Deriv- 
atives      90 

CHAPTER  VIL 

Style,  Variations  of.  —  Long  Sentences.  —  The  Metho- 
dist Church  Case.  —  Hahits  of  Revising  Speeches. — 
A  Contrast. — The  Importance  of  Rhetorical  Dec- 
orations. —  The  Freedom  of  Discourse  necessary  to 
AN  Advocate.  —  Long  Arguments 112 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Rev.  Dr.  Hitchcock's  View  of  Mr.  Ciioate.  —  Extracts 
from  Journal.  —  The  Comparative  Advantages  of  Liv- 
ing IN  the  Old  World.  —  Music  —  Vindication  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott.  —  Intervention  ;  Kossuth's  Visit.  — 
Eulogy  of  Webster 128 


CONTENTS. 


XIX 


CIIAPTKR  TX. 


PAQC 


Prf.pauation  for  Servick  in  CoNURKSfl.  —  Rank  A\rt  Ac- 
CKi'TANci:.  —  Lost  SrKK.Liii-.s.  —  Annkxation  ok  Tixas, — 
TiiK  TAitii  1 .  —  IIoMi;  Industry  and  tiik  MKciiAMtAL 
Arts;  rRouRiss.  —  Conclrrknt  Vilws  ok  otiikr  Statks- 
mkn l'>l 


CIIAPTKR   X. 

T.  ■:    Indictmknt  or    McLkod.  —  Tiik  Ilii.r,  ok   Imminitv 
■jggkstkd  hy  Mr.   Fox. — Tiik  Coursk  itrsi'kd  iiy  tiik 

yKCRK.TARY     OF     StATK.  —  DkHATKS     IN     CoNGRKSS.  —  Dk- 

kknsk,  of  Mr.  Wkiistkr.  —  Tiiivi.  of  McLk.od.  —  Act  as 

TO     IvKMKDIAL    Jl'STUK. — OtIIKR     (QUESTIONS     RKKORK    TIIK 

5SKNATK. — Thk    Bank.  —  Mr.    Clay's    Intkrfkrknck    in 
Deuate 173 


.  112 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  Shout  Term  in  Congress,  a  Sacrifice. — Resigns  to 
return  TO  the  Profession.  —  Modest  Estimate  ok  his 
OWN  Powers.  —  The  Rewards  of  Puokessioxai.  Work. 
—  Continued    until    his    Health    failed.  —  His    Last 

Case.  —  Cheerful  to  the   Last A  Sea  Voyacje    for 

Health  too  late.  —  His  Death.  —  His  Love  of  the 
Union. — Conversations  with  Mr.  Pratt.  —  ArrRE- 
iiENDS  Civil  AVar.  —  In   that  War,  after   his  Death, 

HE  13   WELL  KEI'RESENTED 194 


CHAPTER  XII. 

RUFUS  ClIOATE  AND  LORD  MaCAULAY  :    A  CONTRAST 


ii: 


204 


128 


T 


XX 


CONTENTS. 


LETTERS. 


i 


i'l 


JosnuA  Van  Cott     . 

A.   P.   PUTXAM,  D.  D.     . 

Enoch  L.  Faxciier  . 
Gkokge  W.  Xksmitii     . 
William  Stuoxg 
K.  S.  Stohrs,  U.  D. 
Matthkw  II.  Carpenter 
James  T.  Fields    . 

Dr.    lioVDEN 

Emory  Washburn 
E.  D.  Saniu)r.v  . 
Edward  B.  (;illett 
Nathan  Crosry 
Henry  K.  Oliver 
William  W.  8toi£y  , 
George  P.  Marsh 
John  Winslow  . 

From  Choate  to  Sumner 


.  229 
2.32 

.  255 
2G1 

.  270 
275 

.  29.'3 
299 

,  307 
312 
327 
331 
340 
352 
3G2 
375 
383 

414 


APPENDIX. 
Remarks  before  the  Circuit  Court  on  the  Death  of  Mr 

\\  EBSTER 



INDEX  


.  433 

453 


.  229 
2.32 

.  255 
2G1 

.  270 
275 

.  293 
299 

,  307 
312 
327 
334 
340 
352 
3G2 
375 
383 

4U 


.  433 
453 


■HHMI 


II 


(i 


ill' 


It- 


.u  ■ 


i 


"■% 


1M 


%'  ' 


; 


I 


li  i 


HJ 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Ancestry  and  Birth.  —  Home  Influence.  —  Early  Promise. — 
Admission  to  the  Bar. —  Practice  atDanvers  and  at  Salem. — 
Clioate  and  Webster.  —  Criminal  Cases.  —  Popular  Fallacy. 

—  Erskine.  —  Counsel  in  Criminal  Cases  necessary  ;  Familiar 
Instances.  — Opinions  of  Professors  Washburn  and  Parsons. 

—  The  Case  of  Professor  Webster.  —  Statements  of  Mr. 
Pratt  and  Judge  Lord.  —  Duty  and  Privilege  of  an  Advo- 
cate. 


-.^^  ':■ 


■>,^.- 


RuFus  CriOATE  came  of  Puritan  ancestry. 
John  Clioate,  the  first  of  the  lineage  who  came 
over  from  England,  settled  at  Ipswich,  now  Essex, 
in  Massachusetts.  Of  some  of  his  descendants  in 
the  next  four  generations  we  have  interesting 
particulars.  His  son  was  for  several  years  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Colonial  Legislature,  juid  died  in  1G95. 
Thomas  Clioate,  born  in  1G71,  upheld  his  pastor, 
the  Rev.  John  Wise,  in  opposing  the  tyranny  of 
Governor  Andros,  and  was  so  devoted  to  pidjlic 
affairs  that  he  was  commonly  called  "  Governor 
Choate."  Francis  Choate,  born  in  1701,  was  a  jus- 
tice of  the  peace  for  about  thirty  years,  and  was  a 


:|it' 


gm 


:1 


?  a 


»i 


2  MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 

writer  antl  <i  s^oeaker  of  some  repute.  William 
Clioate,  born  in  1730,  followed  the  sea  for  several 
years,  and  later  in  life  was  a  teacher  in  the  public 
schools.  One  of  his  sons,  David,  was  born  on  the 
20tli  day  of  November,  1757.  At  the  age  of  nine- 
teen, he  went  into  the  army  under  General  Gates, 
and  afterward  served  in  a  Continental  regiment 
under  Lafayette.  After  peace  had  been  declared, 
he  made  voyages  to  Southern  ports  and  to  Spain. 
On  the  15tli  of  October,  1791,  he  married  Mir- 
iam, a  daughter  of  Aaron  Foster ;  and  from  that 
time  until  his  death,  in  1808,  he  resided  at  Ips- 
wich, his  native  jilace.  To  them  were  born  six 
children,  —  Mary,  Hannah,  David,  Rufus,  Wash- 
ington, and  Job. 

Rufus  Choate  was  born  at  Ipswich,  on  the  first 
day  of  October,  1799.^  Until  fifteen  years  of  age, 
when  he  went  for  some  months  to  the  Acadeni}'  in 
Hampton,  N.  H.,  he  remained  at  home.  In  this 
he  was  fortunate.  His  father  and  mother  were 
persons  of  rare  endowments.  Intelligence,  prin- 
ciple, cheerfulness,  sound  common  sense,  in  each 
of  them,  were  wrought  together  in  the  integrity 
of  a  complete  character.  The  family  training 
gave  the  proper  bias  to  his  sentiments.  In  his 
youth  he  was  full  of  promise ;  in  a  marked  degree, 
aspiring  and  intellectual.     At  an  age  when  boys 

1  See  Dr.  Putnam's  description  of  bis  birthplace. 


i    .  ■ 


HOME  INFLUKXCE.  3 

are  expected  to  care  for  none  of  these  things,  he 
had  a  thirst  for  knowledge,  a  fondness  for  reading, 
and  a  fine  sense  of  the  use  of  words.  It  appears 
that  wlien  he  was  six  years  old  he  had  "  devoured 
the  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and  used  to  surprise  his 
playmates  by  recitations  from  it ;  and  that,  before 
his  tenth  year,  he  had  read  most  of  the  books  in 
the  village  liljrary.  Beneficent  iniluences,  acting 
on  a  delicate,  docile,  suscepti))le,  emotional  nature, 
—  a  nature  easily  chilled,  if  not  perverted,  by 
contact  with  the  world,  —  had  been  at  work  in 
advance  of  the  schools.  Thus  it  was  that,  in  due 
time,  the  boy  went  out  to  those  schools  mature  in 
moral  and  intellectual  strength,  prepared  to  exer- 
cise the  manly  patience  given  to  his  riper  studies. 
He  carried  with  him  the  devotion,  the  genial 
spirit  of  his  home  life ;  and  the  early  love  never 
faded  from  his  heart. 

In  his  sixteenth  year  he  entered  Dartmouth 
College,  and,  after  his  graduation  there,  remained 
a  year  as  tutor.  He  then  went  to  the  Law  School 
at  Cambridge,  and,  after  the  usual  course  of  study, 
became  a  student  in  the  office  of  Mr.  Wirt,  Attor- 
ney-General of  the  United  States.  Still  later  he 
was  a  student  in  the  law  offices  of  Mr.  Andrews 
at  Ipswich,  and  of  Judge  Cummins  at  Salem.  He 
was  admitted  to  practice  by  the  Court  of  Common 
Pleas  in  1823,  and  by  the  Supreme  Court  in  1825. 


M 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


|i| 


1 1 


!i 


He  began  practice  at  Danvers.  The  biiikling 
in  which  he  had  his  office  has  been  taken  down. 
While  living  there,  he  married  Helen  Olcott,  an 
alliance  which  gave  grace  and  dignity  to  his  social 
life.  He  was  chosen  a  member  of  the  Legislature 
and  of  the  State  Senate,  and  was  thus  brought 
into  near  relations  with  the  leading;  men  of  the 
Commonwealth,  some  of  whom  became  his  life- 
long^ friends.  In  1828  he  moved  to  Salem.  There 
further  political  honors  came  to  him.  He  was 
elected  to  Congress,  and,  having  served  one  term, 
was  reelected ;  but,  at  the  close  of  the  first  session, 
he  resigned,  and  soon  after  settled  in  Boston. 
He  had  then  acquired  great  repute  as  an  advo- 
cate. But,  although  his  knowledge  of  the  law 
and  his  command  of  all  that  gave  power  and 
beauty  to  illustrations  of  it  had  been  severely 
tested  at  Salem,  where  there  was  a  strong  bar,  he 
may  have  had  some  misgivings  as  to  the  competi- 
tion that  awaited  him  in  his  future  labors.  The 
field  chosen  was  occupied  by  lawyers  who,  in  learn- 
ing, eloquence,  experience,  judgment,  and  dignity 
of  character,  compared  favorably  with  the  mem- 
bers of  the  profession  in  any  city  of  the  world. 
Among  such  men,  by  the  studies  and  contentions 
of  a  few  years,  he  won  his  way  to  the  highest 
and  best  assured  professional  renown.  The  gifts 
and  acquisitions,  the  zeal,  energy,  and  persever- 


WEBSTER  AND   C  HO  ATE. 


■I 


ance  necessary  to  secure  that  distinction  must 
have  been  very  great.  The  highest  proofs  of 
merit  are  found  hi  that  achievement,  and  in  the 
fact  that  the  members  of  the  bar  loved  him ;  as  is 
shown  by  brotherly  attentions  while  he  lived,  and 
by  the  eloquence  of  sorrow  ^vhen  he  died. 

From  their  first  appearance  at  the  bar,  as  op- 
posing counsel,  comparisons  were  made  between 
Daniel  Webster  and  Rufus  Choate,  as  if  their  rela- 
tive merits  as  lawyers  and  advocates  could  be  thus 
determined.  But  these  men  were  so  unlike  in 
genius  and  in  style  that  the  comparison  was  futile  ; 
it  was  unjust.  When  Mr.  Choate  came  to  Boston, 
Mr.  Webster  stood  on  vantage  ground.  It  was 
not  merely  that  he  had  had  great  experience,  and 
was  enjoying  the  finne  of  his  triumph  in  the  Dart- 
mouth College  case  before  Mr.  Ciioate  took  up  the 
study  of  law,  but  that,  by  a  series  of  signal  and 
impressive  services,  ministering  to  the  interests, 
the  pride,  and  the  honor  of  the  people,  he  had 
won  their  love  and  confidence,  and  had  become 
invested  with  a  degree  of  weight  and  authority 
which  no  member  of  the  bar,  as  such,  could  have 
secured.  The  glamour  of  his  greatness  would  im- 
press, if  not  mislead,  the  average  juryman.  In  the 
forensic  tournament  he  was  thus  doubly  armed, 
whether  his  quarrel  were  just  or  not.  Mr.  Choate 
had  no  such  special  claim  to  attention,  had  no  ar- 


■psBr 


wm 


6 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   C  HO  ATE. 


mor  but  such  as  industry,  learning,  and  eloquence 
could  supply.  He  led  no  one  to  regard  him  as  the 
rival  of  Mr.  Webster;  his  taste  would  have  been 
olt'ended  at  the  suggestion  of  such  rivalry.  His 
estimate  of  Mr.  Webster's  powers  was  too  generous 
to  admit  of  such  qualification.  In  the  like  spirit, 
Mr.  Webster  often  expressed  his  admiration  of 
Mr.  Clioate's  learning  and  eloquence.  Indeed,  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  he  ever  went  into  a  trial 
or  an  argument  in  opposition  to  Mr.  Choate  with- 
out being  conscious  that  he  was  meeting  an  ath- 
lete  whose  dexterity  and  strength  were  equal  to 
his  own.  Enough  is  known  of  their  causes  to  jus- 
tify the  belief  that  none  of  them  was  lost  or  won 
because  either  counsel  had  failed  to  make  a  proper 
presentation  of  the  facts  to  the  jury,  or  of  the 
law  to  the  Court,  in  whatever  form  or  domain  of 
jurisprudence  that  law  might  have  been  discover- 
able. 

Most  young  lawyers  of  shining  parts  have  had 
occasion  to  undertake  the  defense  of  criminal  cases 
as  a  source  of  income,  or  as  the  most  direct  ap- 
proach to  popular  notice  and  favor.  As  Mr. 
Choate's  relation  to  such  cases  has  been  freely 
and,  at  times,  unfavorably  mentioned,  some  obser- 
vations on  that  subject  may  be  proper. 

While  in  practice  at  Danvers  and  at  Salem,  he 
had  often  acted  as  counsel  for  persons  accused  of 


niACTICE  IN  CRIMINAL   CASES. 


!  ; 


ced,  it 


crime.  It  has  been  said  that  no  one  defended  by 
him  was  convicted.  The  like  fortune,  to  a  great 
extent,  attended  his  subsequent  efforts.  In  im- 
portant cases,  where  the  indications  of  guilt  were 
thought  to  be  strong,  his  clients  were  acquitted. 
Such  instances  gave  rise  to  the  popular  notion 
that  his  powers  of  persuasion  could  lead  jurymen 
to  sympathize  with  and  shield  the  guilty.  Some 
laymen  were  shocked  on  learning  that  shades  of 
mental  disorder,  with  new  names,  had  been  dis- 
covered. Others  —  as  if  one  who,  while  walking 
in  his  sleep,  kills  another,  should  be  punished  — 
objected  to  the  defense  of  sonniambulism  inter- 
posed for  the  benefit  of  Tirrell.  There  were,  I 
may  say  in  passing,  two  indictments  against  Tir- 
rell ;  one  for  murder,  the  other  for  arson  ;  both 
depending  on  circumstantial  evidence.  The  ver- 
dicts were  not  obtained  against  the  rulings  or  the 
instructions  of  the  Court.  Indeed,  in  one  of  the 
cases,  Chief  Justice  Shaw,  in  his  charge  to  the 
jury,  strongly  discredited  some  of  the  witnesses 
for  the  prosecution.  These  cases  excited  as  much 
effeminate  criticism  as  anv  in  which  Mr.  Choate 
was  supposed  to  have  had  undue  influence  with 
the  jury,  but  the  general  sense  of  the  profession 
was  satisfied  with  the  acquittal  of  Tirrell. 

Mr.  Choate  was  not  less  sought  for,  nor  less 
successful,  in   civil  cases.      But  his  brilliant  de- 


1i 


li. 


8 


MEMOniES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


"I  I 


I 


fcn.scs  In  tlio  other  department  of  the  law  had 
excited  more  attention,  and  led  to  the  imposition 
of  a  title  which  represented  the  least  imi)ortant 
part  of  his  labors:  tliat  of  "The  Great  Crim- 
inal Lawyer."  To  those  familiar  with  legal  and 
forensic  history  this  title  implied  no  disparage- 
ment ;  none,  certainly,  not  equally  deserved  by 
advocates  of  historic  renown,  ever  to  be  held  in 
reverence,  who,  after  counsel  could  be  heard  for 
the  accused  in  State  Trials  in  England,  devoted 
their  skill  and  inlluence  to  the  protection  of  life 
and  liberty. 

There  came  a  time,  perhaps  about  midway  in 
his  professional  career,  when  the  pressure  of  crim- 
inal cases  was  especially  distasteful  to  Mr.  Choate. 
He  may  have  been  conscious  that  his  sympathies 
were  not  always  under  his  control,  and  that  in  the 
fervor  of  discussion  he  was  lial)le  to  be  carried  be- 
yond the  line  of  logical  argument  which  his  de- 
liberate judgment  would  have  approved.  It  may 
be  believed,  however,  that  he  had  no  other  or  fur- 
ther cause  for  regret.  No  one  has  suggested  that 
he  ever  practiced  any  artifice  or  evasion  to  enable 
the  guilty  to  escape.  It  would  seem,  therefore, 
that  the  eulogist  of  that  other  great  criminal  law- 
yer, Daniel  O'Connell,  could  have  had  the  assent 
of  few  sensible  persons  when  he  referred  to  Rufus 
Choate  as  the  man  "  who  made  it  safe  to  murder  ; 


ore, 

,,;- 

aw- 

I 

ifus 

EARyESTXESS  IN  HIS  PROFESSroX.  0 

and  of  whose  health  thieves  asked  before  they  be- 
gun to  steal." 

Mr.  Wendell  i'hillips  niiiy  have  known  little  of 
the  matter  implied  in  that  aspersion,  of  the  merits 
of  the  eases  in  which  Mr.  Choate  had  Ijeen  en- 
gaged, or  of  tiic  spirit  which  led  liiiu  to  defend 
the  rights  of  persons  charged  with  crimes  of  which 


tl 


h 


mt. 


T( 


ler ; 


3  Dcen  nuiocei 
the  pure,  intlexible,  benign  administration  of  the 
law  more  dear  than  to  Mr.  Clioate.  His  letters 
and  speeches  prove  that  devotion.  But  to  no  one 
could  the  feeble  presentation  of  a  case,  half  giving 
it  away,  have  been  more  offensive.  This  is  shown 
by  his  example.  From  first  to  last,  he  did  his 
work  with  all  his  might.  It  is  further  proved  by 
an  entry  in  his  Journal  as  to  a  trial  which  he  had 
witnessed  at  the  Old  Bailey  :  that  of  Pate,  charged 
with  striking  the  Queen.  Mr.  Clioate  says,  "  The 
prisoner's  counsel,  in  my  judgment,  gave  up  his 
case  by  conceding,  '  he  feared  he  should  fail.'  I 
thought  and  believed  he  might  have  saved  him." 
It  is  apparent  that  he  should  have  saved  him,  as 
"  All  seemed  to  admit  that  the  prisoner  was  so  far 
insane  as  to  make  wdiipping  improper,  yet  that  he 
was  not  so  insane  as  not  to  be  guilty."  No  coun- 
sel could  thus  neglect  the  rights  of  the  accused 
without  being  guilty  of  a  moral  offense  deserving 
the  severest  reprobation.    In  such  a  case,  it  would 


'P^ 


f . 


Wm 


10 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CUD  ATE. 


i  ■  I 


be  more  jii.st  and  humane  to  err,  if  at  all,  by  excess 
of  zeal  than  by  want  of  it. 

The  fact  that,  as  occasion  required,  Mr.  Choate 
did  defend  criminal  cases,  is  to  be  regarded  with 
graicfid  pride.  It  illustrates  not  merely  a  spirit 
of  self-sacrifice,  the  sympathy  which  led  him  to 
consider  those  who  were  in  sore,  perhaps  unde- 
served, distress,  but  also  the  sense  he  had  of  his 
duty  as  an  advocate.  Still  he  does  not  seem  to 
have  adopted  the  opinion  of  Cicero  :  that,  where 
life  was  at  stake,  it  was  more  honorable  to  defend 
than  to  prosecute.  lie  had  respect  for  the  wants 
of  the  State  as  well  as  for  those  of  the  citizen.  In 
one  of  the  few  cases  in  which  Mr.  Webster  acted 
for  the  people,  that  of  Knnpp,  charged  with  aid- 
ing and  aljctting  in  the  murder  of  White,  Mr. 
Choate,  then  too  young  at  the  bar  to  take  a  prom- 
inent part,  was  with  him  as  associate  counsel ;  and, 
twenty-three  years  later,  when  he  could  select 
the  work  best  suited  to  his  taste,  he  accepted 
office  as  Attorney-General  of  Massachusetts. 

The  popular  fallacy  which  imputes  want  of 
moral  tone  to  lawyers  who  are  willing  to  defend 
those  apparently  guilty  of  crime  has  been  exposed 
by  Dr.  Johnson  and  other  moralists.^  Sydney 
Smith's  article  on  "  Counsel  for  Prisoners"-  bris- 

1  Boswoll's  Lifi  of  Johnson,  vol.  iii.,  ch.  ii. ;  ib.,  ch.  be. ;  vul.  iv.,  ch.  i. 

2  Edinburgh  Review,  1826. 


ERSKINE\S  CLAIMS   UPON   US. 


11 


ties  with  facts  and  arguments  in  favor  of  the 
rights  of  the  accused.  Erskine,  in  terms  and  by 
example,  denies  the  right  of  counsel  to  withhold 
their  services.  In  his  defense  of  Thomas  Paine, 
the  author  of  the  "  Rights  of  Man,"  in  which  he 
utterly  failed,  Erskine  went  further  in  assorting 
the  duty  of  the  advocate  than,  under  like  cir- 
cumstances, Choate  might  have  done.  But,  in 
resisting  the  importunity  of  his  friends  who 
sought  to  prevent  his  undertaking  that  defense, 
the  question  with  Erskine  became  one  of  right  or 
privilege,  rather  than  of  duty.  He  was  asserting 
his  independence  as  a  member  of  the  bar.  Yet,  in 
a  later  case,  one  in  every  sense  more  inviting  and 
respectable,  he  speaks  as  though  he  had  the  right 
•  to  withdraw.  Except  in  the  case  of  Paine,  he  was 
fortunate  in  Uie  character  of  his  professional  work. 
His  name  is  dear  to  us,  and  will  be  to  future  gen- 
erations, because,  in  defending  those  who  were 
charu!:ed  with  offenses  against  the  State,  he  had 
occasion  to  expose  the  fallacy  of  constructive  trea- 
son, and  to  assert  the  independence  of  the  jury 
and  the  liberty  of  the  press.  Therein  lies  his 
claim  to  remembrance. 

That  the  services  of  counsel  are  necessary  in 
criminal  cases  has  been  proved  by  bitter  experi- 
ence. In  England,  able  lawyers  were  called  in  to 
represent  the  Crown,  even  when  the  accused  was 


I  ;r' 


II 


.!iiJ 


'W 


r 


12 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


denied  such  aid.  Thus  Coke  and  Bacon  served, 
and  in  some  cases  to  their  Listing  discredit.  This 
course  largely  contributed  to  the  "judicial  mur- 
ders "  which  darken  the  pages  of  history  prior  to 
the  reign  of  William  and  Mary,  and  which  emi- 
nent English  authors  —  Hume,  Mackintosh,  Camp- 
bell, Macaulay  —  have  deplored. 

Mr.  Scarlett,  afterwards  Lord  Abinger,  whose 
experience  at  the  bar  had  been  great,  w\as  of  opin- 
ion that,  unless  the  prisoner  had  the  benefit  of 
counsel,  justice  could  not  be  safely  administered. 
He  declared  that  he  had  often  seen  persons,  whom 
he  thought  innocent,  convicted  for  want  of  acute 
and  intelligent  counsel.  Expressions  of  like  im- 
port abound  in  debates  in  Parliament  and  in  legal 
biography. 

In  illustration  of  this  view  it  may  be  well  to  re- 
fer to  a  few  familiar  cases  at  home. 

In  1770  some  British  soldiers  were  to  be  tried 
in  Boston  for  murder.  The  circumstances  were 
such  as  to  excite  popular  indignation  and  horror. 
Josiali  Quincy,  Jr.,  then  a  young  lawyer,  came 
forward  to  defend  them.  For  a  time  he  suffered 
great  reproach.  But  a  letter  of  remonstrance 
from  his  venerable  father,  evidently  written  in 
great  distress,  must  have  given  him  deeper  con- 
cern. He  answered  the  letter  in  becoming  terms, 
stating  the  principle  by  which  he  was  governed ; 


L'ied 
rove 
ror. 
ime 
[red 
aice 
in 
|on- 


OPINIONS   OF   WASHBURN  AND   PARSONS.       13 

and  acting  with  John  Adams  and  Sampson  S. 
Blowers,  he  went  on  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty. 
Some  of  the  accused  were  acquitted  ;  others  were 
found  guilty  of  manslaughter  ;  not  one  of  them 
was  convicted  of  murder. 

In  a  lecture  on  the  "  Study  and  Practice  of  the 
Law,"  delivered  in  the  Law  School  of  Harvard 
University,  the  late  Professor  Washburn  refers, 
with  exultation,  to  the  fact  that  the  case  was  thus 
defended,  and  says  that  it  secured  to  the  State 
one  of  its  "  noblest  moral  triumphs."  That  distin- 
guished jurist,  Theophilus  Parsons,  in  an  address 
to  the  students  of  that  Law  School,  in  1859,  upon 
the  "  Character  and  Services  of  Rufus  Choate," 
said,  '^  There  never  was  a  case  nor  a  criminal  that 
a  lawyer  should  not  defend,  with  the  profound 
conviction  that,  while  he  keeps  the  law  with  him, 
he  is  safe  in  his  reputation,  safe  in  his  standing  in 
the  community  and  among  his  fellows."  He  re- 
fers with  pride  and  satisfaction  to  the  defense  of 
the  British  soldiers  by  Adams  and  Quincy.  He 
also  refers  with  shame  and  sorrow  to  "  the  dark 
and  bloody  page  upon  which  arc  recorded  the 
trials  of  the  witches  in  1G92,"  and  says,  "that 
none  of  the  protective  forms  or  rules  of  justice 
shielded  those  unfortunates,  and  that  no  lawyer 
was  permitted  to  act  as  their  counsel."  He  adds, 
"  If  a  lawyer  had  defended  them,  and  had  applied 


It 

ill 


t ,  ■ 

i' . ; 
\    i 


I! 


.■Mpillf.^PWpWIfWWWPW^WP^ 


14 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


■I 

I! 


I:  ^l 


the  test  of  cross-examination  to  the  wild  and  fran- 
tic stories  of  the  witnesses,  and  a  judge  had  been 
there  who  could  tell  the  jury  what  the  law  was, 
and  a  jury  had  been  there  willing  to  learn  the  law 
and  to  obey  it,  this  black  and  ineffaceable  spot  had 
not  fallen  ujoon  the  childhood  of  Massachusetts." 

In  1741,  what  has  been  known  as  the  "Negro 
Plot,"  a  supposed  conspiracy  to  burn  the  city  of 
New  York  and  to  massacre  its  inhabitants,  threw 
the  people  into  great  excitement  and  alarm.  The 
accused,  put  on  trial,  had  no  counsel.  The  At- 
torney-General, assisted  by  several  counsel,  con- 
ducted the  prosecution.  Of  the  persons  arrested 
and  tried,  some  were  hanged,  some  burned,  and 
others  transported.  In  his  "  Criminal  Trials," 
Chandler  refers  to  the  testimony  as  contradic- 
tory, and  insufficient  to  prove  the  crime  charged  ; 
and  agrees  with  Bancroft  that  the  pretended  plot 
"  grew  out  of  a  mere  delusion."  That  view  has 
been  generally  accepted. 

In  1735,  John  Peter  Zenger,  against  whom  the 
Attorney-General  had  filed  an  information  charg- 
ing him  with  having  published  a  malicious  and  se- 
ditious libel,  was  tried  before  the  Supreme  Court 
in  the  city  of  New  York.  The  counsel,  who  first 
appeared  for  him,  raised  a  question  of  jurisdic- 
tion, and  were  excluded  from  the  bar.  Zenger's 
friends  brought  Andrew  Hamilton,   then   about 


PROFESSOR   WEBSTER'S   CASE. 


16 


eighty  years  of  age,  from  Philadelphia,  and  he 
conducted  the  defense.  He  admitted  the  publica- 
tion, but  sought  to  show  the  truth  of  the  paper, 
and  claimed  that  the  jury  were  to  pass  on  the  mo- 
tive and  intent  of  the  defendant,  and  so  determine 
the  question  of  guilt  or  innocence.  The  jury 
found  the  defendant  not  guilty,  "  in  the  teeth,"  it 
is  said,  "  of  the  instructions  of  the  Court." 

These  instances  may  suffice.  Is  it  not  reason- 
able to  infer  that  some  of  the  British  soldiers 
might  have  been  found  guilty  of  murder,  and  that 
Zeno-er  would  have  been  condenmed,  if  the  aid  of 
counsel  had  been  denied  them,  and  that,  with 
such  aid,  the  victims  of  the  supposed  "  Negro 
Plot  "  could  have  been  saved  } 

When  Professor  Webster  was  charged  with  the 
murder  of  Dr.  Parkman,  it  came  to  be  generally 
understood  in  Boston  that  Mr.  Choate  was  unwill- 
ing to  act  as  his  counsel.  That  he  refused  to  un- 
dertake the  defense  was  known  only  to  his  family 
and  to  those  who  had  a  special  interest  in  the  fate 
of  the  prisoner.  Indeed,  so  reticent  was  Mr. 
Choate  that  all  his  friend,  Professor  Brown,  could 
say,  long  afterwards,  was  that,  for  reasons  which 
he  judged  satisfactory,  he  had  declined.  This 
statement  excited,  rather  than  satisfied,  curiosity. 

But,  now  that  the  occasion  for  such  silence  has 
passed    away,   it  seems   proper,  as  due   to   Mr. 


iN 


p\ 


11 


1    ! 


16 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   C 110 ATE. 


Choate's  memory,  that  all  doubt  should  be  re- 
moved. Entertaining  this  view,  Mr.  Edward  El- 
lerton  Pratt  and  the  lion.  Otis  P.  Lord,  Judge  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  Massachusetts,  an  intimate 
personal  and  professional  friend  of  Mr.  Choate, 
have  kindly  made  to  me  the  following  state- 
ments. 

Mr.  Pratt  says,  "  Mr.  Franklin  Dexter,  one 
of  the  leaders  of  the  bar  in  New  England,  was 
gr.nitl^  jiterested  in  Professor  Webster's  case, 
believed  that  he  was  innocent,  and  was  persist- 
ently ci> merit  tjiat  Mr.  Choate  should  defend  him 
on  that  ground.  The  Hon.  Charles  Sumner,  also 
holding  that  view,  urged  Mr.  Choate  to  undertake 
the  defense,  as  he  expressed  it,  in  the  interest  of 
humanity,  and  was  quite  angry  with  him  for 
refusing.  At  that  time  the  testimony  taken  be- 
fore the  coroner  was  known ;  that  taken  by  the 
grand  jury,  by  whom  the  indictment  had  been 
found,  was  not  publicly  known.  The  question  of 
the  Professor's  guilt  or  innocence  was  the  absorb- 
ing topic,  and  the  excitement  in  all  classes  of 
society  was  intense. 

"  Mr.  Dexter  was  determined  to  secure  Mr. 
Choate's  services,  and,  after  much  study  of  the 
case,  called,  by  appointment,  one  evening  to  lay 
before  him  what  he  called  its  merits.  Mr.  Choate 
listened  to  him,  as  a  juror  might  have  done,  for 


MR.  DEXTER  AXD  MR.   CIIOATE. 


17 


;r  *l 


Mr. 

the 
lo  lay 
lioate 

for 


% 


nearly  three  hours ;  and,  as  he  afterwards  told 
me,  it  was  one  of  the  most  vigorous  and  per- 
suasive arsfuments  he  ever  heard.  That  estimate 
may  well  be  accepted,  when  we  remember  Mr. 
Dexter's  ability,  his  friendship  for  Professor  Web- 
ster, and  his  belief  that,  if  Mr.  Choate  could  be 
secured  as  counsel,  the  accused  might  be  saved. 

"  The  argument  having  closed,  Mr.  Choate 
walked  up  and  down  his  library  several  times, 
and  then,  pausing  before  Mr.  Dexter,  who  was 
keenly  observing  him,  said,  '  Brother  Dexter,  how 
do  you  answer  this  question,  and  this  ? '  I  can- 
not now  state  the  points  thus  presented,  but  my 
general  recollection  of  the  account  given  me  by 
Mrs.  Choate  and  Mr.  Dexter  is,  that  those  ques- 
tions presented  insuperable  difficulties  underly- 
ing the  defense.  Mr.  Dexter,  as  if  transfixed,  sat 
musing  deeply,  his  head  l^ent  upon  his  hand,  for 
several  minutes,  and,  finally,  as  if  hopeless  of  find- 
ing an  answer,  and  seeking  relief,  he  arose  sud- 
denly, and  said,  '  Brother  Choate,  have  you  read 

's  book  ?     If  not,  do  so,  and  you  will  find  it 

charming.'  Mr.  Choate  accepted  this  changed 
mood,  parted  from  him  soon  after  with  kindly 
expressions  of  interest,  and  the  subject  was  never 
again  alluded  to  between  them." 

Judge  Lord  says,  "  I  had  a  conversation  with 
Mr.  Choate  on  this  subject.     It  was  more  than 

2 


.1(1 


::ii 


a  lu 


¥ 


■  I 


18 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


I 


!■ 


'i! 


II 


twenty  years  ago,  and,  of  course,  it  is  impossible 
to  reproduce  precisely  his  language,  but  the  inter- 
view w^as  substantially  this.  I  said  to  Mr.  Choate, 
*  Is  it  true  that  you  refused  to  defend  Professor 
Webster  ?  '  to  which  he  rejilied,  —  not  in  direct 
terms,  but  by  implication,  —  that  he  did  not  ab- 
solutely refuse,  but  that  they  did  not  want  him. 
Pausing  for  a  while,  he  added,  *  There  w  as  but 
one  way  to  try  that  case.  When  the  Attorney- 
General  was  opening  his  case  to  the  jury,  and 
came  to  the  discussion  of  the  identity  of  the 
remains  found  in  the  furnace  with  those  of  Dr. 
Parkman,  the  prisoner's  counsel  should  have  risen 
and  said,  substantially,  that,  in  a  case  of  this  im- 
portance, of  course  counsel  had  no  right  to  con- 
cede any  point,  or  make  any  admission,  or  fail  to 
require  proof,  and  then  have  added,  '  But  we 
desire  the  Attorney-General  to  understand,  upon 
the  question  of  these  remains,  that  the  struggle 
will  not  he  there.  But,  assuming  that  Dr.  Park- 
man  came  to  his  death  within  the  laboratory  on 
that  day,  we  desire  the  Government  to  show 
whether  it  was  by  visitation  of  God,  or  whether, 
in  an  attack  made  by  the  deceased  upon  the 
prisoner,  the  act  was  done  in  self-defense,  or 
whether  it  was  the  result  of  a  violent  alterca- 
tion. Possibly  the  idea  of  murder  may  be  sug- 
gested, but  not  with  more  reason  than  apoplexy, 


MR.   Clio  ATE' S  MODE  OF  DEFENSE. 


19 


or  other  form  of  sudden  death.  As  the  prisoner 
himself  cannot  speak,  the  real  controversy  will 
probably  be  narrowed  to  the  alternative  of  justi- 
fiable homicide  in  self-defense,  or  of  manslaughter 
by  reason  of  sudden  altercation."  ' 

"  Having  said  this,  he  added,  '  But  Professor 
Webster  would  not  listen  to  any  such  defense  as 
that,'  accompanying  that  statement  with  language 
tending  to  show  that  the  proposed  defense  was  re- 
jected, not  only  by  the  accused  but  by  his  friends 
and  advisers. 

"  He  then  said,  '  The  difficulty  in  that  defense 
was  to  explain  the  subsequent  conduct  of  Professor 
Webster,'  and  he  proceeded  with  a  remarkable 
and  subtle  analysis  of  the  motives  of  men,  and  the 
influences  that  govern  their  conduct,  to  show  that 
the  whole  course  of  the  accused,  after  the  death, 
could  be  explained  by  a  single  mistake  as  to  the 
expediency  of  instantly  disclosing  what  had  hap- 
pened ;  that  hesitation  or  irresolution  or  the  de- 
cision, '  I  will  not  disclose  this,'  adhered  to  for  a 
brief  half-hour,  might,  by  the  closing  in  of  cir- 
cumstances around  him,  have  led  to  all  that  fol- 
lowed. Having  concealed  the  occurrence,  he  was 
obliged  to  dispose  of  the  remains,  and  would  do 
so  in  the  manner  suggested,  and  with  the  facilities 
afforded  by  his  professional  position.  He  con- 
cluded, *  It  would  have  been  impossible  to  convict 


1!' 


20 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


I  ' 


Professor  Webster  of  murder  with  that  admis- 
sion.' 

"  I  suggested  that  the  possession  of  the  note  by 
Professor  Webster,  as  paid,  was  an  awkward  fact. 
He  said,  *  Yes,  but  it  might  seem  to  become  a 
necessity  after  his  first,  false  step  of  conceahnent.' 
He  added,  '  Dr.  Parkman  was  known  to  have  been 
at  the  hospital.  When,  and  under  what  circum- 
stances, and  to  explain  what  statements  made  by 
him,  the  Professor  thought  it  expedient  to  say  he 
had  paid  the  note,  or  to  obtain  possession  of  it, 
would  probably  never  appear.  It  was  simply  an 
incident  whose  force  could  be  parried,  if  he  could 
obtain  credit  for  the  position  that  the  concealment 
was  a  sudden  and  impulsive  after-thought,  which 
took  possession  of  and  controlled  him  in  his  subse- 
quent conduct.'  " 

We  have,  in  these  statements,  the  desired  testi- 
mony as  to  Mr.  Choate's  relation  to  that  case. 
We  have  also  an  illustration  of  his  view  of  the 
duty  and  privilege  of  an  advocate.  It  is  apparent 
that,  while  accepting  the  theory  that,  in  a  crim- 
inal case,  a  lawyer  is  not  at  liberty  to  withhold 
his  services  absolutely,  Mr.  Choate  did  not  think 
him  bound  to  go  into  court,  contrary  to  his  own 
convictions,  and  assert  what  he  did  not  believe  to 
be  true,  or  take  a  line  of  defense  which  he  con- 
sidered untenable.     Thus,  for  instance,  as  he  was 


niGIirS  OF  CRIMINALS. 


21 


satisfiGcl  that,  at  the  time  and  place  alleged,  Dr. 
Parkinan  had  died  in  Professor  Webster's  pres- 
ence, Mr.  Choate  was  not  willing  to  act  on  the 
theory  that  Dr.  Parknian  was  alive  after  that  time, 
and  to  call  and  examine  witnesses  to  testify,  as 
they  finally  did,  under  a  mistake  as  to  identity, 
that  they  had  seen  him  day  after  day  in  the 
streets  of  the  city.  That  theory  was  set  up  on  the 
trial  and  failed,  as  Mr.  Choate  had  fore'-.een  that  it 
would  fail. 

In  taking  leave  of  this  subject,  and  recalling 
the  fact  that,  in  England,  the  right  of  the  accused 
to  speak  by  counsel  in  State  trials  was  secured,  as 
a  national  reform,  long  desired  by  the  people  and 
by  the  Ijest  and  wisest  men  in  Parliament,  we  may 
well  be  grateful  that  our  system  of  criminal  prac- 
tice was,  at  an  early  day,  framed  on  just  and  hu- 
mane principles.  With  us,  the  right  of  the  accused 
to  be  defended  by  counsel  has  been  respected,  in- 
deed secured,  by  the  Constitution  ;  and,  if  need 
be,  counsel  is  appointed  for  that  purpose  by  the 
Court.  It  is  to  be  confessed,  however,  that,  even 
with  our  improved  methods  of  discovering  tl.o 
truth  and  our  humane  administration  of  the  law, 
mistakes  have  been  committed.  Instances  have 
occurred  where  skill  and  learning  could  not  un- 
ravel complicated  circumstances,  and  the  innocent 
have  been  condemned  to  die.    So  also,  in  the  light 


u 


ss 


22 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


1 1 


of  newly  discovered  evidence,  it  has  been  seen 
that  men  have  been  unjustly  consigned  to  the 
state  prison  ;  and  after  they  may  have  suffered 
the  bitterness  of  death  for  years,  we  open  the 
doors  with  a  humiliation  scarcely  less  than  that 
inflicted  on  them.  We  are  thus  admonished  to 
improve  our  methods,  to  give  the  accused  every 
reasonable  means  of  defense,  and  to  accept  cor- 
dially whatever  aid  can  be  properly  rendered  in 
determining  the  guilt  or  innocence  of  those  who 
are  tried  as  criminals. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Tho  Study  of  Law.  —  Powers  of  Memory.  —  Inference  of  Un- 
known Facts,  and  as  to  tho  Characters  of  Jurors  and  Wit- 
nesses. —  Silent  Conference  with  a  .Turyman.  —  Oi)inions 
of  Professor  Parsons,  Mr.  Loring,  ^Ir.  Dana,  and  Judge 
Sprague.  —  The  Number  of  Mr.  Choate's  Cases.  —  His 
Treatmeut  of  Witnesses. 

ALTnorcii  endowed  with  great  in^'llectual  pow- 
ers, Mr.  Clioate  was  as  careful,  method ical,  and 
sohcitoiis  in  regard  to  mental  helps  as  any  student 
who  might  have  been  less  conscious  of  innate 
strength.  He  seems  to  have  been  mindful  that 
excellence  was  attainable  not  only  by  those  who 
could  pass  on  swiftly  and  easily,  but  by  those  who, 
less  favored  of  nature,  were  superior  in  diligence. 
Thus,  regarding  genius  as  the  mere  capacity  to 
acquire  knowledge  and  to  use  it,  he  gave  himself 
up  to  habitual  study. 

Some  perils  attend  students  who  possess  great 
intellectual  gifts.  From  the  time  when  such  a 
one  perceives  how  receptive  he  is  to  suggestions 
of  truth  and  beauty,  and  how  readily  the  barriers 
which  impede  others  yield  to  his  touch,  he  may 
become  the  victim   of  a  delusive  self-confidence, 


pi 


p.>  (   5 


r   ;i 


24 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


and  be  led  to  accept  the  notion  that  the  fruitful- 
ness  of  his  life  will  be  of  spontaneous  growth.  As 
he  seems  to  apprehend  intuitively  the  less  occult 
relations  of  things,  he  regards  close  and  prolonged 
study  as  unnecessary.  So,  content  with  some  ap- 
pear{uice  of  culture,  he  falls  into  easy  ways,  and 
ii-oes  throuEfh  life  as  the  louno:er  saunters  throut»;h 
the  streets.  He  is  like  the  slothful  miner  who 
gathers  up  the  bits  of  precious  metal  exposed  to 
view,  without  acting  on  the  hint  nature  gives  of 
the  wealth  hidden  beneath  the  surface.  Another 
student,  of  like  gifts,  moves  on  earnestly,  acquires 
knowledge,  does  some  good  work.  Having  found 
that  what  he  should  learn  is  easily  acquired,  he 
assumes  that  there  need  be  no  limit  to  his  attain- 
ments. Like  the  student  in  "  Faust,"  he  confers 
with  the  evil  spirit  and  is  encouraged  to  inquire 
into  mysteries  too  subtile  for  his  comprehension. 
He  takes  to  such  studies,  and  thenceforth  swims 
not  with  the  current  but  against  it.  He  is  vain 
and  unstable  in  proportion  as  he  evades  the  influ- 
ence of  natural  laws,  the  checks  and  hindrances 
designed  to  hold  him  in  restraint,  and  which  are 
as  necessary  for  his  safety  as  the  wall  built  at  the 
side  of  the  road  by  the  river  is  for  the  protection 
of  travelers.  He  undertakes  to  inform  the  school- 
men m  their  specialties,  and  his  speculations  on 
science  and  on  the  nature  and  relations  of  man 


MR.   CIIOATE'S  LONG-IIEADEDNESS. 


25 


partake  of  the  artificial  texture  of  his  life.     As  he 


has  done  some  good  work  in  certain  departments, 
his  speculations  secure  respect  and  confidence. 
Thus  his  best  eiiorts  may  have  aii  evil  intUience. 

Rufus  Choate  escaped  the  perils  which  thus  be- 
set students.  He  knew  the  need  and  the  use  of 
study ;  he  knew  also  the  limitations  that  were  to 
be  respected.  A  conservative  spirit  held  him  in 
restraint,  and  repressed  longings  to  slake  his  thirst 
at  fountains  beyond  his  reacli.  In  early  life  he 
refused  to  follow  a  friend  into  the  labyrinths  of 
German  mysticism,  or  to  explore  the  region  which 
Swedenborg  had  made  his  own.  This  reserve  be- 
came him,  not  simply  because  ho  did  not  wish  to 
be  "  shocked,  waked,  or  stunned"  out  of  settled 
convictions,  but  because  the  duties  before  him, 
with  the  studies  they  involved,  would  consume 
his  time  and  strength.  So  he  put  aside  as  improv- 
ident whatever  was  remote  from  the  purposes  of 
his  life.  He  never  lost  his  balance  hy  reaching 
out  too  far,  nor,  like  one  of  old,  walked  into  the 
water  while  gazing  at  the  stars. 

The  special  and  seemingly  alien  qualities  of  Mr. 
Choate's  nature  were  strongly  marked.  He  was 
gentle,  yet  exigent ;  simple,  yet  suljtile  ;  natural, 
yet  artistic  ;  poetic  in  conception  and  tone,  yet 
acute  and  logical.  But  his  studies  were  so  conso- 
nant to  his  wants,  and  his  work  so  wisely  chosen, 


il 


A 


i'i 


.^h 


'i    !' 


^»^^ 


i  I    t 


26 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


that  those  qualities  of  mind,  acting  in  harmony, 
were  moulded  into  perfect  unity  of  character.  In 
the  record  he  has  left,  we  can  clearly  discern  his 
love  of  nature,  and  of  all  that  is  good  and  true 
and  beautiful ;  the  loyalty,  sagacity,  and  prudence 
that  guided  him  in  his  public  services,  and  the 
tenderness  and  cheerfulness  that  made  his  .  lue- 
life  as  a  perpetual  summer.  But,  however  we 
may  indulge  in  speculations  as  to  his  peculiar  gen- 
ius, he  should  finally  be  accepted  as  his  own  inter- 
preter. 

We  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  Professor  Brown 
for  havinti:  collected  the  frao;ments  that  could  be 
found  of  Mr.  Choate's  Journal.  A  part  of  it,  writ- 
ten when  he  was  traveling  abroad,  he  no  doubt 
intended  for  his  family  and  friends.  The  other 
part,  especially  that  which  relates  to  his  studies, 
may  have  been  for  the  benefit  of  his  son,  then  a 
student.  But  the  Journal  having,  as  we  may  as- 
sume, served  its  purpose,  shared  the  fate  of  much 
else  that  he  had  written.  How  much  of  it  was 
lost  is  not  known.  The  parts  of  it  which  we  have 
are  rich  in  suggestion  and  instruction,  the  style 
exquisite  in  its  unstudied  grace  and  beauty. 

Mr.  Choate's  study  of  the  law  was  extraordi- 
nary. I  find  in  legal  biography  no  instance  of 
equal  devotion.  In  speaking  of  his  early  course, 
he  told  Mr.  Parker,  the  author  of  the  "  Reminis- 


1 1 


7/75  LEGAL  ENTHUSIASM. 


27 


cences,"  that  in  studying  law  he  gave  his  mind 
wholly  to  it ;  that  his  habit  was  to  read  until  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  After  that  early  experi- 
ence, his  legal  studies  became  less  exclusive,  as  he 
was  seeking  a  broader  and  more  generous  culture 
than  the  law  could  give.  But,  even  in  his  latest 
years,  he  sought  inspiration  from  Coke  on  Little- 
ton, lest  his  legal  taste  should  decline.  That  he 
might  be  in  full  communion  with  the  spirit  and 
philosophy  of  our  language  and  institutions,  and 
of  our  legal  science,  —  the  law  of  the  law,  — 
he  studied,  almost  daily,  other  languages  and  other 
systems  of  jurisprudence  and  of  government. 

He  was  wont  to  accept  judicial  determinations 
of  important  questions  with  jealous  scrutiny.  His 
modes  of  inquiry,  adhered  to  long  after  he  had 
attained  great  fame  for  his  learning  in  the  law, 
were  peculiar  and  characteristic.  He  was  in  the 
habit  of  collecting  the  facts  stated  in  cases  reported 
in  the  books,  and  of  preparing  arguments  for  or 
against  the  decisions ;  of  criticising  the  authorities 
cited,  and  liuding  others  to  confirm  or  to  qualify 
them ;  and  of  seeking  to  discover  how  far  a  doc- 
trine, underlying  a  series  of  adjudications,  might 
be  made  to  appear  more  or  less  just  in  the  light 
of  history,  of  reason,  and  of  scientific  principles. 

Equally  special  and  exhaustive  was  his  study  of 
the  cases  in  which  he  was  to  appear  as  counsel. 


IP. ... 


w 


II 


i 


fl^ 


i 


'^n 


ji      1 


ii'    \ 


i  ( 


28 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


Each  case  was  tested  and  tortured  until  every  con- 
ceivable phase  of  strength  and  of  weakness  was  re- 
vealed. His  son-in-law  and  partner,  the  late  Mr. 
Bell ;  his  student,  the  late  Senator  Matt.  H.  Car- 
penter ;  and  Judge  Fancher,  who  was  concerned  in 
a  case  with  Mr.  Clioate,  agree  as  to  the  thorough- 
ness of  his  preparation.  He  studied  pen  in  hand. 
The  facts  and  qualifying  circumstances  were  en- 
tered in  a  little  book.  Books  of  this  kind,  with 
notes  of  decisions,  were  used  by  Erskine.  Mr.  Espi- 
nasse  says  that,  aftej:  great  experience  at  the  bar, 
Erskine  used  to  bring  his  little  book  into  court  and 
read  cases  from  it.  On  one  occasion  his  opponent, 
affecting  to  ridicule  the  habit,  said  that  he  wished 
Erskine  would  lend  him  his  Ijook.  Lord  Mansfield 
said,  "  It  would  do  you  no  harm,  Mr.  Baldwin,  to 
take  a  leaf  from  that  book,  as  you  seem  to  Avant 
it."  Erskine  thus  used  his  book  when  he  souo-ht 
to  show  that  the  impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings 
was  at  an  end,  owing  to  mere  suspension  on  the 
dissolution  of  Parliament.  Edmund  Burke,  easily 
excited  by  opposition  of  any  kind  in  regard  to 
that  impeachment,  had  a  tling  at  "  ideas  that 
never  traveled  beyond  a  nisi  j)rlus  case,"  and  a 
sneer  for  the  book.^      Mr.  Clioate  had  little  need 

1  In  this  ri'liUion  it  is  grateful  to  recall  the  fact  that,  a  short  time 
before  his  death,  Burke  called  on  Erskine,  and,  holding  out  his  hand, 
said.  '  ^'ouie,  Erskine,  forgot  all.  I  shall  soon  quit  this  stage,  and 
wish  to  die  at  peace  with  everybody,  especially  with  you." 


DAILY  PRACTICES. 


29 


the 

lily 
to 

liat 

a 

led 

lime 
tLiid, 
and 


of  his  book  in  court,  as  what  he  had  written  was 
deeply,  if  not  indelibly,  impressed  upon  his  mem- 
ory. But  the  book  of  facts,  thus  useful  in  prepa- 
ration, would  be  further  useful  to  be  revised  and 
extended,  should  the  case  be  put  over  to  another 
term.  So,  too,  in  the  multitude  of  cases,  it  might 
prevent  confusion.  It  is  said  that  Sugden  once 
got  hold  of  the  wrong  brief  and  argued  in  support 
of  his  opponent's  side  of  the  case,  and  that  Dun- 
ning made  a  like  blunder.  No  such  mistake  has 
been  reported  of  Erskine  or  of  Choate. 

In  his  Journal,  Mr.  Choate  describes  his  studies ; 
tells  how  the  early  hour  was  employed.  He  had  a 
few  minutes  with  favorite  authors,  English,  Greek, 
Latin,  French,  often  a  lesson  from  each,  and  then 
the  genius  of  the  law  beckoned  him  away.  Thus, 
for  instance,  he  is  in  London,  and  after  saying, 
"  Mr.  Bates  called  and  made  some  provision  for 
our  amusement,"  he  adds  that  he  read  the  Bible, 
the  Prayer  Book,  a  half  dozen  lines  in  Homer  and 
Virgil,  and  a  page  of  Williams's  "  Law  of  Keal 
Property."  It  was  a  rule  with  him  to  read  at  least 
one  page  of  some  law  book  daily.  All  this  to  keep 
the  simple  elements  of  the  law  fresh  in  mind  ;  a 
ptirpose  from  which  not  even  the  delights  of 
travel,  of  new  scenes  and  associations  could  wholly 
divert  him.  Thus  trained  and  strengthened,  his 
vision  could  take  in,  as  from  a  tower  of  observa- 


i:i 


)  ;f 


ii 


^mm 


H 


t 

. 

Il 

k' 
'i'i 

1 

Hi 


i 


30 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


tion,  the  domain  of  the  law.  It  lay  before  him  as 
a  familiar  and  inviting  landscape.  Hence  it  was 
that  when,  on  a  trial  or  an  argument,  principles 
apparently  adverse  or  decisions  not  anticipated 
were  cited  against  him,  the  countervailing  doc- 
trine, if  there  was  any,  was  in  his  mind  ready  for 
use.  The  study  of  law,  thus  pursued,  leads  to 
logic,  to  ethics,  to  metaphysics  ;  in  a  word,  to  the 
whole  ran^^  of  special  sciences.  Mr.  Choate  may 
have  accepted  the  Justinian  definition,  "  JurisjDru- 
dence  is  the  knowledge  of  things  divine  and  hu- 
man ;  the  science  of  what  is  just  and  unjust."  If 
so,  that  may  suggest  some  of  the  reasons  which 
led  him  to  adopt  more  liberal  studies  than  are 
usually  thought  necessary  to  professional  success. 

We  all  know  that  many  men  less  studious  and 
learned  than  Mr.  Choate  become  distinguished 
and  useful  lawyers,  and  have  great  weight  and  in- 
fluence in  public  affairs.  But  it  may  be  safely 
said  that  only  those  who  are  endowed  with  spe- 
cial gifts,  as  if  set  apart  and  consecrated  to  the 
service,  can  become  great  advocates.  How  some 
of  these  special  gifts  waited  upon  Mr.  Choate  and 
served  him  may  be  readily  recalled. 

His  power  of  memory  was  so  marvelous  and  so 
useful  that  some  further  reference  to  it  may  be 
proper.     The  "  Law  Reporter,"  ^  in  describing  the 

1  Vol.  vl,  p.  386. 


NOTE   ON  THE  riKENIX  BANK  TRIAL. 


31 


trial  of  the  Phoenix  Bank  cases  (1844),  in  which 
Mr.  Webster  and  Mr.  Clioate  were  counsel  for  dif- 
ferent defendants,  has  the  following  note  :  — 

"  In  the  cour.se  of  the  trial,  and  in  a  mo.st  excit- 
ing passage,  when  all  the  counsel  appeared  to  be 
intent  upon  the  case  and  nothing  else,  Mr.  Web- 
ster wrote  on  a  slip  of  paper  the  favorite  couplet 
of  Pope,  and  passed  it  to  Mr.  Choate :  — 

'  Lo,  whore  Masotis  sleeps,  and  softly  flows 
The  freezing  Tanais  through  a  waste  of  snows.' 

Mr.  Choate  Avrote  at  the  bottom  '  wrong '  — 

*  Lo,  where  Ma^otis  sleeps,  and  hardly  flows 
The  freezing  Tanais  through  a  waste  of  snows.' 

Mr.  Webster  rejoined  '  riirht,'  and  offered  a  washer. 
A  messenger  was  dispatched  for  Pope,  when  it  ap- 
peared that  the  present  Senator  (Choate)  had  the 
advantage  of  his  predecessor  (Webster),  and  was 
right.  Mr.  Webster  gravely  wrote  on  the  copy 
of  Pope,  '  Spurious  edition  ! '  and  the  subject  was 
dropped.  All  this  while  the  spectators  were  in  the 
full  belief  that  the  learned  counsel  were  in  ear- 
nest consultation  on  some  difficult  point  of  law." 

In  his  "  Reminiscences  of  Daniel  Webster"  (p. 
358),  Mr.  Peter  Ilarvey  gives  what  would  seem  to 
be  the  same  incident,  thouuh  referrinu:  to  another 
author.  The  title  of  the  case  on  trial  is  not  stated, 
nor  are  the  lines  of  the  poet.  But  it  is  said,  "  Mr. 
Webster  sent  an  extract  from  Cowper,  which  Mr. 


' 


I  (1:^ 


32 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


Clioate  corrected  and  returned,  intimating  that 
there  had  been  a  misquotation.  Mr.  Webster  re- 
peated his  first  version  and  chiimed  that  he  was 
right.  A  messenger  was  sent  for  Cowper's  '  Task  ;  * 
the  place  was  found,  and  Mr.  Webster  saw  that 
the  sentiment  was  as  Mr.  Choate  had  corrected 
it.  He  smiled,  and  wrote  with  a  pencil  upon  the 
margin  of  the  page  containing  the  disputed  pas- 
sage, '  A  spurious  edition.'  " 

Mr.  Parker,  in  the  "  Reminiscences  of  Rufus 
Choate"  (p.  183),  relates  how,  at  a  special  gather- 
ing in  Washington,  in  the  winter  of  1850,  the  con- 
versation having  turned  upon  "  Young  America," 
Mr.  Webster  referred  to  the  lad  in  severe  terms,  but 
Mr.  Choate,  claiming  that  he  was  no  new  thing  in 
the  world's  history,  cited  the  following  passage,  as 
proof  of  the  antiquity  of  the  character :  "  Statim 
sajnunt,  statim  sc'mnt  omnia;  neminem  verentur, 
imitantiir  neminem,  atque  ipsi  sibi  exemjila  simi." 
Which  may  be  translated,  less  liberally  than  by 
Mr.  Parker,  At  once  they  are  wise,  at  once  they 
know  all  things ;  they  reverence  no  one,  they  imi- 
tate no  one,  and  follow  only  their  own  example. 
Mr.  Benton  thought  that  the  quotation  was  too 
happy  to  be  genuine ;  and  Mr.  Choate  referred 
him  to  the  younger  Pliny,  where  it  was  found  in 
the  twenty-third  letter  of  the  eighth  book.^ 

^  As  felicitous  as  Swift's  quotation  from  Virgil  upon  the  injury  of 


i^y 


:ed 


in 


of 


m 
mi 

i 


MR.  CHOATE'S  KEEN  PENETRATION. 


33 


It  is  obvious  that,  with  such  power  of  memory, 
Mr.  Choate  could  readily  recall  the  proofs  peculiar 
to  a  case  on  trial  and  apply  thcui  to  instant  use. 
In  special  cases,  he  might  not  know,  often  could 
not  know,  upon  what  proofs  his  adversaries  relied. 
But  he  could,  by  an  intellectual  and  redoctive 
process,  infer  much  that  belonged  to  the  other 
side  of  a  case.  This  power  of  reasoning  from  the 
known  to  the  unknown,  of  judging  how  men 
would  act,  was  possessed  by  him  in  a  remarkable 
degree.  Of  this  an  esteemed  correspondent  gives 
an  illustration.  He  says,  "  In  my  early  experi- 
ence I  had  a  complicated  case  of  some  importance, 
in  which  Mr.  Choate  was  retained  as  counsel. 
There  had  been  no  consultation,  and  I  was  to  pre- 
pare a  full  statement  of  the  facts.  With  the  aid 
of  my  client,  I  arranged  the  points,  more  than 
thirty  in  number,  with  the  proofs  as  to  each,  in 
their  apparent  order  and  relation.  I  then  went 
to  Mr.  Choate  and  read  the  paper  to  him.  He 
said,  '  Please  repeat  numbers  2G  and  27.'  I  did 
so.  He  said,  '  There  is  something  Avanting ;  the 
human  mind  does  not  work  in  that  way.  The  case 
drifts  on  naturally  enough  down  to  2G,  but  there  a 
peculiar  complication  comes  up,  and  your  state- 
ment does  not  meet  it.     At  that  juncture,  the  par- 

a  violin  by  fire  communicated  from  a  lady's  garment  hangln<T  next 
it:  ^^ Mantua,  vce!  miserce  nimium  vicina  Cremonce." 
S 


1] 
if 

Ih 

H   ■ 


III  , 


m 


:i 


i        I 
I       I 


34 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


ties,  influencofl  by  business  habits,  by  interest,  or 
by  desire  to  overreach  each  other,  had  several 
courses  open  to  them  ; '  and  he  proceeded  to  in- 
dicate each  in  his  pecuhar  way.  I  resumed  the 
study  of  the  case,  had  conferences  with  witnesses ; 
my  client  found  additional  correspondence ;  and  it 
finally  appeared  that  Mr.  Choato  was  right.  The 
new  matter  under  2G  presented  a  more  full  and 
connected  view  of  the  case  on  its  merits,  quite  in 
harmony  with  one  of  Mr.  Choate's  illustrations, 
and  on  the  trial  of  the  action  had  controlling  in- 
fluence." 

Mr.  Clioate  was  almost  always  able  to  fix  npon 
the  theory  on  which  his  cases  should  be  tried. 
This  called  for  the  exercise  of  great  judgment. 
He  seldom  disclosed  his  theory  until  it  was  seen 
that  the  proofs  at  large  were  consistent  with  it. 
But,  when  the  current  of  testimony  set  in  against 
it  too  strongly  and  baflled  expectation,  his  theory 
was  abandoned  and  a  new  one  devis(Al.  The  transi- 
tion was  made  so  adroitly  that  few  could  perceive 
that  he  had  been  disappointed. 

A  correspondent,  long  a  loader  of  the  Boston 
bar,  in  referring  to  Mr.  Choate's  perception  and 
sagacity  as  exceptional,  says,  "  He  could  read  the 
mind  and  infer  the  character  of  a  juryman  or  of  a 
witness  with  wonderful  readiness  and  certainty.  I 
have  sat  by  him  in  court  when  jurors  were  se- 


1'  * 


AN   UNUSUAL   CASE. 


35 


l>n 
1(1 
le 
la 
I 


Icctcd,  and  when  witnesses,  strangers  to  him,  -were 
called,  and  been  told  what  he  thought  of  each  of 
them  in  turn,  and  I  cannot  remember  an  instance 
in  which  ho  was  mistaken.  Nearly  allied  to  that 
was  his  ability  to  judge  of  ciicumstances  in  their 
relation  and  bearing.  I  have  been  with  him  in 
the  trial  of  cases  when  the  party  and  the  attorney 
for  whom  he  acted  had  little  conception  of  the 
difficulties  to  be  encountered,  and  have  often 
witnessed  the  ease  and  readiness  with  which  he 
met  and  unraveled  complications  which  threatened 
defeat.  In  this  relation,  an  action  I  had  brought 
to  recover  the  price  of  a  cargo  of  goods  which  my 
client  had  sold  on  credit  may  be  worthy  of  notice. 
The  defense  set  hp  w\as  fraud.  The  defendant 
claimed  that  my  client  had  represented  the  goods 
to  be  sound  and  mercliantnl)le  when  he  knew  that 
they  were  not ;  that,  relying  on  that  representa- 
tion, he  had  purchased  and  shipped  the  goods  to  a 
foreign  market  and  had  suffered  ixreat  damage. 
My  client  denounced  the  defense  as  a  scheme  to 
put  off  the  payment  of  an  honest  claim,  and  was 
too  indignant  to  confer  aljout  it.  Accepting  his 
views,  I  assumed  that  there  would  bo  no  attempt 
to  prove  the  defense,  and  on  the  day  of  trial  at- 
tended with  him  and  a  witness  to  prove  the  ac- 
count. Brooks,  the  broker  who  had  acted  wdth  us 
in  making  the  sale,  had  recently  died.     (I  pause 


1 

II! 


I    ; 

I    1 


:ll!i 


M 


"P 


li. 


»i 


I    ! 


36 


MEMORIES   OF  IIUFUS  CIIOATE. 


a  moment  to  state  some  facts  of  which  we  were 
then  ignonint.  In  the  same  month  and  before  my 
chent's  .sile,  the  defendant  had  pnrchascd  of  an- 
other person  and  shipped  to  tlie  same  marlvet  a 
hke  cargo  of  goods,  and  had,  it  seems,  been  de- 
frauded as  in  his  plea  alleged.  Brooks,  the  broker, 
had  also  acted  with  that  person  in  making  the 
sale.)  At  court,  the  defendant  and  his  counsel 
met  us  ready  for  trial  *,  my  client  still  had  his 
'  Pshaw !  pshaw  ! '  as  to  the  defense.  But  I  got 
nervous,  and  sent  for  Choate  to  help  me,  and  hap- 
pily he  came. 

"  Our  formal  proofs  were  put  in.  The  defend- 
ant's counsel  then  opened  the  defense,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  prove  it.  My  client  was  in  great  wrath. 
Choate  said  to  me,  '  He  is  honest,  and  we  shall 
find  our  way  out  of  the  scrape.'  Tlie  last  and 
principal  witness  for  the  defense  appeared  to  be  a 
sensible,  substantial  sort  of  person.  He  spoke  to 
the  whole  case,  and  explained  how  he  knew  that 
the  >,oods  Avere  made  of  bad  materials,  not  fit  for 
use.  He  was  employed  on  the  ship  that  had  taken 
the  goods,  and  was  the  only  witness  to  prove  tli« 
false  representations  alleged.  I  said  to  Mr.  Choa 
'  He  is  inventing  that.'  He  replied,  '  No,  he  m 
truthful,  but  mistaken ; '  and  went  on  to  cross- 
examine.  He  and  the  witness  were  soon  on  the 
most  friendly  terms.      I  never  saw  Mr.  Choate 


A    TRUTHFUL  BUT  FALSE    WITNESS. 


37 


1  -« 


appear  so  simple  and  8low  of  apprehension.  Tiie 
■witness,  not  thinking  that  he  was  mnch  of  a  law- 
yer, took  to  him  kindly,  and  was  anxious  to  have 
him  understand  the  whole  matter.  Mr.  Choate, 
seeniiiiij^  to  admit  that  the  representations  had  been 
made  and  were  false,  was  very  solicitous  about  the 
party  making  them.  The  witness  was  quite  clear 
that  the  name  was  that  of  the  plaintiff,  and  was 
disposed  to  argue  the  question  on  the  ground  that 
Brooks,  whom  he  had  known,  was  with  us,  as  we 
had  admitted.  He  described  the  seller  of  the 
goods;  his  size,  complexion,  whiskers,  dress.  When 
all  that  had  been  fixed  beyond  recall,  and  my 
client  had  come  forward  to  be  identified,  Mr. 
Choate,  turning  to  the  witness,  with  changed  man- 
ner and  terrible  emphasis,  said,  '  Can  you,  on  your 
oath,  say  that  this  is  the  man  ?  '  The  likeness 
which  had  been  given  was  so  unlike,  ^o  Jlagrant,  as 
to  excite  roars  of  laughter,  in  which  the  jury 
joined.  The  witness  answered,  '  You  know  that's 
not  the  man  ;  what  do  you  want  to  make  fun  of 
me  for  ? '  Mr.  Choate  assured  him  that  ho  was 
not  responsible  for  the  blunder  of  charging  fraud 
on  the  wrong  person,  and  said  he  would  like  to 
have  him  repeat  the  name  of  the  ship  in  which 
tlie  goods  had  been  taken  and  state  positively  the 
mne  of  sailing.  These  facts  having  been  given, 
Mr.  Choate  said  to  the  Court  that  he  would  prove 


in 


'>r^ 


mh  > 


D'  H'  ■ 


!m 


38 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


more  fully  that  our  goods  wore  sold  two  weeks 
later,  and  were  sent  by  a  dii'ferent  vessel.  On 
that  having  been  shown,  the  defendant's  counsel 
abandoned  the  defense. 

'"'  Without  assuming  to  judge  of  the  defendant's 
integrity,  I  am  satisfied  that  his  counsel  Avas  no 
party  to  the  trick  ;  had  not  dreamed  of  the  mis- 
take. But  I  can  say  that  Mr.  Choate  was  the  first 
to  suspect  that  there  had  been  some  real  transac- 
tion as  to  which  the  witness  was  speaking  truly. 
He  discovered  the  blunder  when  we  were  blind  to 
it,  and  dealt  with  the  witness  accordingly.  My 
client  was  very  grateful.  Mr.  Choate  made  light 
of  his  services,  and  accepted  only  half  of  the  fee 
I  brought  him.  My  client  refused  to  take  the 
otliei'  half  back,  and  it  was  sent  as  a  gift  to  Dr. 
Adams's  church." 

Another  correspondent  says,  "  I  went  into  court 
to  see  Mr.  Choate,  and  found  him  addressing  a 
jury.  The  proceedings  having  been  suspended  lor 
a  few  minutes,  I  said  to  him,  '  We  Avant  an  inter- 
view in  B.'s  case  ;  how  long  will  you  be  v.\  closing 
your  argument  ? '  He  said, '  I  don't  know.  That 
red-headed  juror  on  the  back  seat  docs  not  seem  to 
ujiderstand  the  case  yet,  and  I  must  feel  of  him, 
and  put  some  points  in  a  new  light.'  I  went  back 
to  my  seat,  and  he  remained  looking  at  the  jury, 
without  apparent  concern.     When  the  Chief  Jus- 


I 


PROFESSOR  PARSOXS'S  RECOLLECTIONS.      39 

tice  came  Ou  the  bench  agahi,  Mr.  Choate,  rismg, 
said, '  li'  your  Honor  please,  I  detain  you  no  longer. 
Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  that  is  our  case.'  He  had 
a  verdict.  As  we  walked  to  his  office,  I  told  him 
how  amazed  I  had  been,  and  asked  why  he  had 
changed  his  plan.  He  said, '  When  you  mentioned 
B.'s  case,  1  was  conferring  with  my  red-headed 
juryman,  and,  after  some  further  conference,  I 
saw  I  had  him.'  " 

In  his  address  before  the  Law  School  of  Harvard 
University,  to  which  I  have  already  referred.  Pro- 
fessor Parsons,  after  speaking  of  his  long-continued 
intimacy  with  Mr.  Choate  and  of  a  trial  in  which 
they  had  been  opposing  counsel  twenty-four  years 
before,  says,  '•  I  have  the  more  right  to  make  this 
use  of  his  memory,  Ijeoause  b.e  was  one  of  us.  It 
vas  in  this  school  that  he  laid  the  foundations 
upon  which  he  afterward  Ijuilt  up  his  great  knowl- 
edge of  the  law.  And  we  have  the  right  to  say 
that  they  were  ample,  deep,  and  strong,  when  wo 
remember  the  vast  and  l^eautiful  structure  which 
rested  upon  them."  He  also  says,  ''  I  have,  in- 
deed, no  hesitation  in  savinu"  that  he  was  one  of 
the  most  learned  lawyers  1  have  ever  met  with. 
And  his  learning  was  excellent  in  its  kind  and 
quality." 

The  proceedings  of  the  Suffolk  bar,  on  the  oc- 
casion of  Mr.  Choate's  deatl;,  fitly  illustrate  the 


'ill 


f 


: 


LUJ 


ff^ 


40 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


i 


.  i  ! 
!  i 

i.1*  i 


r  f 


estimation  in  -which  he  was  held  as  a  scholar,  as 
an  advocate,  and  as  a  citizen.  It  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  find  in  modern  biography  anything  more 
touching  and  impressive. 

In  presenting  the  resolutions  at  the  meeting  of 
the  bar,  as  instructed  by  the  committee,  Mr. 
Charles  G.  Loring,  among  other  things,  said, 
"  Having  been,  for  more  than  twenty  years  after 
Mr.  Choate  came  to  this  bar,  his  antagonist  in 
forensic  struggles,  at  the  least,  I  believe,  as  fre- 
quently as  any  other  member  of  it,  I  may  well  be 
competent  to  bear  witness  to  his  peculiar  abilities, 
resources,  and  manners  in  professional  services. 
And  having,  in  the  varied  experiences  of  nearly 
forty  years,  not  infrequently  encountered  some  of 
the  giants  of  the  law,  whose  lives  and  memories 
have  contributed  to  render  this  bar  illustrious 
throughout  the  land,  —  among  whom  I  may  include 
the  honored  names  of  Prcscott,  Mason,  Hubbard, 
Webster,  Dexter,  and  others  among  the  dead,  and 
those  of  others  yet  witli  us  to  share  in  the  sorrows 
of  this  hour,  —  I  do  no  injustice  to  the  living  or  the 
dead  in  saying  that,  for  the  peculiar  powers  desir- 
able for  a  lawyer  and  advocate,  for  combination  of 
accurate  memory,  logical  acumen,  vivid  imagina- 
tion, profound  learning  in  the  law,  exuberance  of 
literary  knowledge,  and  command  of  language, 
miited  with  strategic  skill,  I  should  place  him  at 


I 


'fl'U 


VIEWS   OF  MR.  DANA   AND  JUDGE  SPRAGUE.      41 

the  Lead  of  all  whom  I  have  ever  seen  in  the 
management  of  a  cause  at  the  bar." 

Mr.  Richard  H.  Dana,  Jr.,  other  parts  of  ^vhose 
address  have  been  often  quoted,  said,  ''  The  world 
knows  how  he  electrified  vast  audiences  in  his 
more  popular  addresses  ;  but,  sir,  the  world  has 
not  known,  though  it  knows  better  now  than  it 
did,  —  and  the  testimony  of  those  better  compe- 
tent than  I  am  will  teach  it,  —  that  his  power  here 
rested  not  merely  nor  chicily  upon  his  eloquence, 
but  rested  principally  upon  his  philosophic  and  di- 
alectic power.  He  was  the  greatest  master  of 
loo:ic  we  had  among  us.  No  man  detected  a  fal- 
lacy  so  quickly,  or  exposed  it  so  felicitously  as  he, 
whether  in  scientific  terms  to  the  bench,  or  popu- 
larly to  a  jury ;  and  who  could  play  with  a  fallacy 
as  he  could  ?  Ask  those  venerated  men  who  coin- 
pose  our  highest  tribunal,  with  whom  all  mere 
rhetoric  is  worse  thr  ^  wasted  when  their  minds 
are  bent  to  the  single  purpose  of  arriving  at  the 
true  results  uf  their  science,  —  ask  them  wherein 
lay  the  greatest  power  of  Rufus  Choate,  and  they 
will  tell  you  it  lay  in  his  philosophy,  his  logic,  and 
his  learning." 

When  the  resolutions  wxn-e  presented  at  the 
District  Court  of  the  United  States,  Mr.  Justice 
Sprague  made  some  inter3sting  remarks  from 
which  I  quote  a  few  words.    ''  Others  have  spoken 


;-'i 


42 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


»    *.' 


fully  and  eloquently  of  his  emiuence  and  excel- 
lence in  various  departments.  We  may  here  at 
least  apj)ropriately  say  something  of  him  as  a  law- 
yer and  an  advocate.  His  life  was  mainly  devoted 
to  the  practice  of  his  profession,  and  this  court 
was  the  scene  of  many  of  his  greatest  efforts  and 
highest  achievements.  I  believe  him  to  have  been 
the  most  accomplished  advocate  that  this  country 
has  produced." 

Mr.  Clioate  was,  year  by  year,  engaged  in  the 
trial  and  argument  of  cases  more  continuously 
than  any  other  memljer  of  the  bar  whose  name  I 
can  recall.  But  tiie  extent  of  his  work  cannot,  at 
this  late  day,  be  stated.  Of  the  causes  in  which 
he  was  counsel  and  argued  questions  of  law  and 
equity,  in  the  State  and  Federal  Courts,  three  hun- 
dred and  thirty-three  have  appeared  in  the  regular 
Reports,  and  are  familiar  to  the  profession.  Many 
of  them  were  of  grave  importance,  and  called  for 
the  application  of  principles  in  special  and  novel 
relations.  But,  as  other  counsel  were  often  con- 
cerned with  Mr.  Clioato,  it  cannot  be  said  how 
much  of  the  work  should  be  ascribed  to  him. 

The  number  of  his  trials  before  juries  is  not 
known.  Many  of  them  were  described  in  the 
public  prints,  and  parts  of  some  of  his  arguments 
were  given.  But,  as  the  reporters  had  not  the 
skill  men  of  that  class  now  have,  the  reports  were 


EXAMINATION  OF   WITNESSES. 

imperfect.  Owing  to  the  same  or  a  like  defi- 
ciency, I  cannot  find  a  fair  report  of  his  cross-ex- 
amination of  witnesses.  A  correct  report  would 
be  worth  preserving  as  a  model.  His  fairness  in 
the  treatment  of  witnesses  often  secured  their 
favor  and  the  good- will  of  the  jury.  If  the  wit- 
ness was  timid,  he  was  encouraged  ;  if  nervous, 
soothed  ;  if  eager,  repressed  ;  if  honest,  protected; 
if  crafty  and  adverse,  exposed.  Witnesses  who 
wished  to  tell  the  truth  found  him  patient,  cour- 
teous, helpfulj  considerate.  He  knew  that  they 
often  err  from  want  of  memory,  perhaps  from  ina- 
bility to  distinguish  what  they  know  from  what 
they  have  heard.  So,  having  the  sanctity  of  an 
oath  in  mind,  he  cared  for  the  witness  as  he  cared 
for  himself.  Such  witnesses  often  remembered 
him  with  gratitude,  while  dishonest  witnesses 
learned  to  fear  him.  Herein  Mr.  Choate  was  the 
friend  of  the  Court.  Judge  Sprague  must  have 
thought  so  wdien  he  said  of  him,  "  His  skill  in  the 
examination  of  witnesses  was  consummate.  I  have 
never  seen  it  equaled."  What  Mr.  Choate  said  of 
this  kind  of  Daniel  Webster's  work  may  be  fitly 
applied.  "  His  efforts  in  trials  by  jury  compose  a 
more  traditional  and  evanescent  part  of  his  pro- 
fessional reputation  than  his  arguments  at  law ; 
but  I  almost  think  they  were  his  mightiest  pro- 
fessional displays,  or  displays  of  any  kind,  after 
all." 


'  i 


■f  !;,-:. 


■J         "  ^ 


I    ■ 

!    ; 


j'lr     ■■,■; 

'I       "■ 


1;' 


jl 
1! 


f)   r 


I    r 


11 


ill 


CHAPTER  III. 

Eminent  Men  misunderstood.  —  The  Advocate  and  Mistaken 
Critics.  —  As  to  creating  a  Taste  for  a  Peculiar  Style.  — 
How  readily  Clioate  was  understood. — Alexander  H.  Ste- 
phens and  Professor  Sanborn  as  to  Choate. — The  Born  or 
Natural  Orator.  —  The  Oirice  of  the  Orator. 

The  power  of  making  good  jokes  and  telling 
good  stories,  if  exerci.sed  in  public  by  a  man  of 
eminence,  may  detract  from  the  proper  estimate 
of  his  character.  Sydney  Smith  has  won  lasting 
reputation  as  a  wit ;  and  his  wit  w\as  often  used 
in  the  interest  of  truth  and  right,  but  it  stood 
squarely  in  the  way  of  his  ecclesiastical  prefer- 
ment. President  Lincoln  had  a  quaint  humor  that 
relieved  the  terrible  gloom  of  his  darkest  hours, 
but  he  is  credited  with  jokes  and  stories  that  never 
fell  from  his  lips.  It  was  somewhat  thus  with  Mr. 
Choate.  Those  who  had  no  personal  intercourse 
with  him,  and  who  formed  hasty  judgments  from 
his  peculiarities,  adopted  erroneous  views.  To  that 
error  he  may  have  casually  contributed.  In  legal 
contentions,  he  was  so  happy  in  his  retorts  that  an 
adversary  seldom  gained  anything  by  interrupting 
his  arguments.     But  the  reports  of  those  retorts 


A   SHARP  RETORT. 


45 


(and  they  wore  sure  to  be  reported)  wanted  the 
spirit  and  grace  that  had  charmed  his  opponents. 
I  can  recall  but  one  instance  in  which  his  retort 
gave  olTense.  In  answering  a  lawyer  who  had  .ad- 
dressed the  Court  in  a  loud  tone,  Mr.  Choate  play- 
fully referred  to  his  "  stentorian  powers."  To 
his  surprise,  his  opponent  rose,  and  hotly  replied 
that  nothing  in  his  mode  of  address  would  justify 
such  a  stricture.  As  he  went  on  thus,  his  voice 
rose  again  to  a  high  key,  and  rang  through  the 
court-house  ;  Mr.  Choate  half  rose,  and  said,  in  the 
blandest  tones,  "  One  word,  may  it  please  the 
Court;  only  one  word,  if  my  brother  will  allow. 
I  see  my  mistake.  I  heg  leave  to  retract  what  I 
said.'*  The  effect  was  irresistible ;  the  court  was 
convulsed  with  laughter. 

Mr.  Choate's  witticisms  in  court  had  their  in- 
ception and  growth  at  the  moment,  had  strict  re- 
lation to  the  exciting  cause,  and  were  generally 
helpful  and  for  practical  purposes.  But  he  used 
occasionally  an  expression  so  whimsical  as  to  create 
great  amusement.  It  was  caught  up  and  passed 
from  one  person  to  another,  as  current  coin.  The 
more  grotesque  the  utterance,  the  better  for  the 
gosr"ips;  but  the  more  certain  was  it  to  give  the 
public  a  wrong  conception  of  his  method  and  style. 
Yet  it  was  well  to  expose  a  fallacy  by  some  inci- 
sive word,  some  epithet  or  epigram.      Time  was 


'I 


V 


ii'l 


46 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


m>' 


thus  saved,  and  the  error  made  more  apparent. 
Thus,  when  a  State  line  to  which  he  objected  was 
of  unstable  character,  it  was  pertinent  to  say, 
"  The  Commissioners  might  as  well  have  defined 
it  as  starting  at  a  bush,  thence  to  a  blue-jay, 
thence  to  a  hive  of  bees  in  swarming  time,  and 
thence  to  five  hundred  foxes  with  fire-brands  tied 
to  their  tails."  But  the  people  remember  that, 
and  repeat  it  still  in  various  forms ;  while  of  the 
argument  made  by  him  on  that  occasion,  however 
valuable  or  characteristic,  they  remember  nothing. 

It  would  seem  that  a  knowledge  of  Mr.  Choate's 
quaint  use  of  words  has  been  treasured  up  in 
gentle  minds.  I  give  extracts  from  the  letters  of 
two  correspondents,  women  of  culture,  who  took 
an  interest  in  his  peculiarities.  One  extract  is 
called  "  A  Bit  of  Persiflage." 

"  When  Mr.  Choate  was  in  Washington,  the 
ladies  were  anxious  that  Mrs.  Choate  should  be 
there,  and  often  beset  him  about  it.  On  one  oc- 
casion, when  they  asked  if  he  thought  Mrs.  Choate 
would  come,  he  answered,  *  Yes,  I  now  think  she 
may ;  I  have  wantten  her  to  come,  and  have  of- 
fered to  pay  half  the  expenses.' " 

The  other  extract  is  entitled  "  A  Rebuke,"  and 
relates  to  the  cross-examination  of  a  new-light 
preacher. 

"  Mr.  Choate.  What  are  you,  sir  ? 


sARCAs^f  OF  A  wtt:^ess. 


47 


"  Wlt)iess.  A  candle  of  the  Lord. 

*'  ChUf  Justice.   A  what,  sir  ? 

"  3fr.  Choate.  A  dipped  candle  of  the  Lord,  if 
your  Honor  please." 

My  correspondent  reminds  me  that  "  a  clipjjed 
candle  is  of  the  cheapest  sort ;  one  that  gives  next 
to  no  light  at  all,"  and  says  that  "  therein  lies  the 
sarcasm." 

In  a  letter  from  the  late  Professor  "Washburn,  he 
objected  to  "  the  blazing,  comet-like  creation  of 
fact  and  fancy  in  which  several  writers  had  been 
disposed  to  picture  Mr.  Choate."  He  may  have 
had  in  mind  writers  whose  infelicitous  inventions 
had  been  taxed  to  fasten  upon  Mr.  Choate  jests 
and  gibes  which  he  never  uttered ;  or  those  who, 
not  content  with  treating  Mr.  Choate  as  a  man, 
had  sought  to  depict  him  as  a  magician.  The 
work  of  such  a  writer  is  before  mo.  I  turn  the 
leaves  of  the  volume,  and  collect  some  interesting 
reminiscences  of  Mr.  Choate's  special  powers  and 
methods.  Thus  we  have,  as  to  his  active  brain, 
"  his  head  expanding  with  a  thousand  thoughts  ;  " 
as  to  his  rapid  study  and  apprehension,  that  '-  he 
grasped  the  thoughts  of  a  book  like  lightning ;  " 
as  to  the  impression  he  made  upon  a  jury,  that  he 
'•  dashed  his  view  into  their  minds  with  all  the 
illuminating  and  exaggerating  lightnings  of  his 
portentous  passion ; "  as  to  his  exhaustive  argu- 


1  (  ;.  ...i  I 


1    ' 


;;^Li 


rl 


■tl 


48 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


m     r. 


mentation,  that  he  "  advanced  with  a  diversified 
but  long  array,  which  covered  the  heavens ;  thun- 
der-bolts volleying,  auroras  playing,  and  sunlight, 
starlight,  and  gaslight  shooting  across  the  scene  in 
meteoric  radiance ;  "  and  as  to  his  power  to  excite 
an  audience,  that  "  It  was  literally  almost  as  if  a 
vast  wave  of  the  united  feeling  of  the  whole  mul- 
titude surged  up  under  every  one's  armpits." 

These  quotations  may  suffice  ;  and  yet  I  am 
strongly  tempted  to  refer  to  other  statements 
equally  worthy  of  respect ;  and  especially  to  no- 
tice how  Mr.  Choate  would  "  hurl  his  argument 
home  in  solid,  intense  mass  that  crushed  upon 
the  ear  ; "  how  he  would  "  launch  a  fiery  storm  of 
logical  thunderbolts ; "  and  how,  "  If  a  witness  lay 
athwart  his  verdict,  he  was  crushed  down  and 
crushed  up  and  marched  over." 

But  that  author  is  not  always  so  complaisant. 
He  says  that  in  1855  Mr.  Choate  was  injured  by 
a  fall ;  and  that  "After  the  consequent  illness,  his 
oratory  underwent  a  marked  revolution;  he  no 
longer  tore  a  passion  to  tatters." 

Somewhat  akin  to  this,  and  equally  unjust,  is  a 
statement  which  the  author  quotes  with  approba- 
tion. "  The  jury  advocate  must,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, be  a  mountebank,  if  not  a  juggler  and  a  trick- 
ster." A  more  miserable  conceit  was  never  ut- 
tered.    Was  Mr.  Webster,  while  before  a  jury,  a 


i  *!ii   ^ 


"■  m 


SPIIUT  AXD   TONE  OF  AN  ADVOCATE. 


49 


mountebank,  a  jiifr^lor,  or  a  trickster  ?  "Was  Er- 
skine,  or  Dexter,  Piukney,  Parsons,  or  Curtis,  Wil- 
liam Kent,  Daniel  Lord,  or  Marshall  S.  Bidwell? 

Uncharitable  things  have  been  «aid  of  many 
great  advocates  ;  but,  as  an  illustration,  one  of  the 
worst  things  ever  said  of  Mr.  Choate  was,  that  he 
could  play  the  art  fid  dodfjer  in  reading  a  deposi- 
tion. This  is  a  rude  description  of  fine,  forcible, 
and  effective  readinijr;  reading  which  gives  .signifi- 
cance  and  character  to  vital  passages,  discloses 
their  latent  sense  and  spirit,  aids  the  apprehension, 
and  insures  a  certain  and,  it  may  be,  a  favorable 
interpretation.  Such  a  reader,  natural,  yet  artis- 
tic, "  tells  the  great  greatly,  the  small  subordi- 
nately  ; "  and  thus  we  have  heard  Macready  play 
the  artful  dodger ;  thus  Fanny  Kemble  Butler  ; 
thus  the  gentle  Melancthon  may  have  read  ;  thus 
every  pulpit  orator,  from  Wliitefield  down. 

A  merely  clever  man,  with  no  high  aims  or  love 
of  truth ;  a  wordy,  sharp,  false  man,  however 
adroit  and  plausible ;  the  artful  dodger,  the  moun- 
tebank, juggler,  trickster,  he  who  tears  a  passion 
to  tatters,  can  never  be  a  jury  advocate.  With  all 
his  gifts  and  acquisitions,  the  advocate  must  be  a 
high-toned,  moral  man,  not  a  harlequin ;  a  vital 
utterance,  not  a  mere  sham.  Jurors  are  repre- 
sentative men  and  are  practical,  sensible,  and 
often  sagacious  men,  as  fond  of  fair  dealing  in 

4 


i-i 


!• 


!»t| 


w 


i 


ill 


SI 


i      \ 


1,    ; 


50 


MEMORIES  OF  liUFUS  CIIOATE. 


connsol  as  in  suitors.  Hence,  in  cases  involving 
life,  liberty,  or  character,  an  able  advocate  goes  to 
the  jury  in  a  spirit  akin  to  that  with  which  Esther 
went  in  before  the  king  to  plead  for  her  people. 
At  such  an  hour,  he  indulges  in  no  mere  fancies, 
his  style  becomes  a  reflex  of  his  own  mind  and 
heart ;  if,  as  in  Mr.  Clioate's  or  in  Mr.  Pinkney's 
efforts,  a  flash  of  poetic  thought  or  beauty  gleams 
forth,  it  is  merely  because  the  vision  is  in  his 
spirit,  and  reveals  itself  as  naturally  as  the  simplest 
conception.  He  is  not  the  less  dealing  with  reali- 
ties after  his  fashion. 

He  would  be  adventurous  indeed  who  should 
attempt  to  correct  or  reconcile  much  that  has  been 
written  about  Mr.  Choate.  Failing  in  such  a  pur- 
pose, he  might  be  driven  to  adopt  the  plea  of  the 
poor  fellow  under  constraint,  "  I  am  not  mad,  but 
numbers  have  prevailed  against  n  e."  Yet  I  ven- 
ture upon  some  corrections.  In  ti»'^  first  place,  it 
may  be  said  that  attention  has  been  diverted 
from  Mr.  Choate's  real  character  by  some  not 
unfriendly  writers.  For  this  there  was  neither 
necessity  nor  excuse.  His  views  and  principles, 
his  habits  and  manners,  his  daily  life,  were  well 
known;  in  effect  he  had  lived  as  one  with  all 
doors  and  windows  open ;  no  disguise,  no  conceal- 
ment, no  reservation. 

But  Mr.  Choate  was  a  genius,  as  they  all  de- 


^  tW<  jBa^iK-"-iWar  pi 


SOME  FORMAL   CORRECTIONS. 


51 


claro,  and  tliat  fact  was  suflicicnt  to  inisluacl,  and 
stinuilate  the  invention  of  some  critics. 

They  discovered  that  he  was  a  man  of  words, 
whereas  he  was  a  man  of  ideas  fitly  represented 
by  his  words ;  that  his  style  is  florid,  whereas  his 
style  is  clear  and  unconstrained,  effective  in  its 
simplicity.  Those  who  think  that  prose  should 
have  no  alliance  with  poetry,  for<;et  that  a  poetic 
spirit  enters  into  the  growth  of  language,  into  the 
prattL'  of  children,  and  into  the  eloquence  of  sav- 
age tribes;  forget  that  the  beauty  which  sparkles 
and  flashes  over  the  natural  world  was  intended  to 
give  tone  and  color  to  the  world  of  thought,  the 
outer  glory  to  become  an  inner  experience ;  forget 
that  he  who,  uniting  the  wisdom  of  the  past  with 
the  sagacity  of  the  present,  absorbs  the  power  and 
grace  of  other  languages  into  his  own,  gives  to 
old  theories  a  modern  aspect,  and  to  later  dis- 
coveries their  best  application,  making  the  truth 
appear  more  truthful,  the  beautiful  more  beauti- 
ful, becomes  a  benefactor  to  his  age  and  people. 
Those  who  doubt  this,  who  do  not  perceive  that  a 
spirit  of  poetry,  of  w'it  and  humor,  may  be  helpful 
to  culture  in  thought,  language,  and  style,  and 
may  be  held  in  such  subjection  and  mellow  use 
that  we  recognize  the  poet,  though  he  build  no 
rhyme,  the  wit  though  he  excites  tears  rather 
than  laughter,  will  consign  Edmund  Burke,  Syd- 


;• 


i        V 


l!i 


lii. 


»f' 


I 


,1 


ili    .»■!■ 


II: 


Iffii 


52 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


ney  Smith,  and  Riifus  Clioate  to  the  upper  shelf. 
Such  spirits,  though  in  a  different  guise,  are,  in 
effect,  near  of  kin  to  the  Gradgrind  school.  In 
inquiry  and  argument,  they  always  profess  to  go 
down  to  what  they  call  the  hard-pan.  For  aught 
we  know,  the  mole  does  that,  and  without  being 
the  wiser  for  it.  They  insist  upon  the  facts  ;  will 
be  content  with  no^iiing  less.  I  connnend  Mr. 
Clioate  to  theui,  a  very  high-priest  of  their  order, 
a  most  relentless  inquisitor  after  facts.  He  would 
know  the  facts  in  history,  what  m  fact  had  jjeen 
the  rulings  in  the  Year  Books,  and  by  judges  of 
later  times ;  the  facts  as  to  the  policy,  dates,  a3id 
modifications  of  statutes ;  the  facts  stated  in  the 
pleadings  in  a  cause ;  and,  in  a  trial,  he  was  so 
pertinacious  in  his  quest  for  the  facts  thnt  wit- 
nesses who  began  to  testify  with  certain  mental 
reservations  were  led,  as  by  gentle  compulsion,  to 
make  full  and  circumstantial  disclosures.  It  must 
be  confessed,  however,  that  the  facts  as  discovered 
by  the  Gradgrinds  ma}^  have  been  dry,  inert,  and 
wanting  in  relation  ;  the  facts  as  used  by  Mr. 
Choate  may  have  been  essential  to  an  exposition 
of  vital  force,  instinct  with  demonstration. 

We  have  been  told  by  one '  entitled  to  great 
respect,  that  Mr.  Choate  created  a  taste  for  his 
peculiar  style.  Was  the  impression  made  on  his 
first  appearance  before  Chief  Justice  Shaw  excep- 


y 


i''i 


J'  i 


MR.    CIIOATE  IX  CONGRESS. 


53 


tional  ?  We  learn  from  Professor  Brown  that  tlie 
Chief  Justice  said,  •'  I  had  an  opportunity  to  see 
Mr.  Choate  and  witness  his  powers  as  an  advocate, 
very  early,  when  he  first  opened  his  office  in  Dan- 
vers ;  and  when  I  had  scarcely  heard  his  name 
mentioned."  "As  he  was  previously  unknown  to 
us  by  reputation,  and  regarding  him,  as  we  did,  as 
a  young  lawyer  just  connnencing  practice  in  a 
country  town,  we  were  much  and  very  agreealdy 
surprised  at  the  display  of  his  powers.  It  appeared 
to  me  that  he  then  manifested  much  of  that  keen 
legal  discrimination ;  of  the  acuteness,  skill,  and 
comprehensive  view  of  the  requirements  of  his 
case,  in  the  examination  of  witnesses  ;  and  that 
clearness  and  force  in  presenting  questions,  both 
of  fact  and  of  huv,  by  which  he  was  so  much  dis- 
tinguished in  his  subsequent  brilliant  professional 
career." 

It  further  appears  that  the  taste,  which  it  is 
said  Mr.  Choate  created  for  his  peculiar  style,  must 
have  been  of  sudden  growth.  His  first  juries  un- 
derstood him,  his  early  trials,  triumphs  ;  and  the 
people,  when  he  appeared  before  great  assenddies, 
a  stranger,  hung  upon  his  lips  with  breathless  in- 
terest. He  was  master  of  the  pathetic  in  oral 
discourse,  and  by  that  power  the  world  has  been 
moved.  He  always  adapted  liii  iself  to  the  oc- 
casion, and  went  to  tlicf  marrow  of  the  business  in 


(  I 


■M 


f  if    f' 


54 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


lijind.  Professor  Brown  mentions  the  favor  with 
which  liis  first  speech  in  Congress  was  received. 
Thus,  Benjamin  Ilardin,  member  of  Congress  from 
Kentucky,  indisposed  to  hear  others  upon  the  side 
of  a  question  he  intended  to  advocate,  was  about 
to  leave  as  Mr.  Choatc  rose  to  speak,  but  having 
lingered  a  moment,  and  noticed  the  tone  of  his 
Yoi.e,  was  constrained  to  stay,  and  said,  "  I  was 
captivated  oy  the  power  of  his  eloquence,  and 
found  myself  wholly  unable  to  move  until  the 
last  word  of  his  beautiful  speech  had  been  ut- 
tered." So,  as  Mr.  Everett  has  it,  a  AVestern 
member  said,  "  He  was  the  most  persuasive  speaker 
I  ever  heard."  After  hearing:  Mr.  Choate  in  the 
Senate,  James  Buchanan,  replying  to  him,  said, 
"  It  is  the  first  appearance  of  the  Senator  in  de- 
bate here,  and,  judging  of  others  l)y  myself,  I 
must  say  that  those  who  have  listened  to  him  once 
will  be  anxious  to  hear  him  again." 

He  was  heard  quite  early  before  the  Supreme 
Court  at  Washington  :  Mr.  Webster  was  with  him  ; 
Randolph  and  Whipple  opposed.  Mr.  Choate's 
argument  is  said  to  have  made  a  strong  impres- 
sion upon  all  the  judges.  Judge  Catron  said,  "  1 
have  heard  the  most  eminent  advocates,  Ijut  he 
surpasses  them  all."  A  member  of  the  New  York 
bar,  speaking  of  the  address  of  which  Mr.  Van 
Cott  and  Dr.  Adams  have  written,  said,  "  The  peo- 


fr. 


UXCONSCIOUS  A  PPL  A  rSE. 


55 


pie  coiikl  not  keep  their  seats,  but  kept  ckipping 
and  applauding  without  being  conscious  of  it." 

Under  date  of  March  1,  1852,  Mr.  We])ster, 
writing  from  New  York  to  Mr.  Havens,  said,  "  Mr. 
Choate  must  l)e  here  Friday  evening.  The  idea 
of  hearing  him  is  universally  received  with  the 
greatest  enthusiasm.  He  must  con\e  ;  do  not  fail 
to  persuade  him  to  do  so.  If  he  should  not,  there 
will  be  a  disappointment  not  to  be  appeased." 

Mr.  "Weljster  knew  that  Mr.  Choate  could  speak 
without  special  preparation  ;  that  the  people  would 
understand  him ;  and  that  no  one  could  fill  the 
place  which  hiul  been  assigned  to  him. 

Before  attempting  to  correct  an  error  which 
confronts  us  in  book  form,  touching  Mr.  Choate's 
natural  gifts  for  oratory,  as  compared  with  the 
gifts  of  some  others,  I  cite  the  opinion  of  a  compe- 
tent critic,  Hon.  Alexander  H.  Stephens. 

In  1843,  when  Mr.  Stephens  was  a  member  of 
Congress,  he  heard  Mr.  Choate  in  tlio  Senate  for 
the  first  time.  He  was  speaking  on  the  question 
of  terminating  the  joint  occupancy  of  Oregon. 
Mr.  Stephens  says,  ''  Every  one  was  enraptured 
with  his  eloquence."  He  adds,  '•'  Ever  after  this 
speech  I  never  let  an  opportunity  go  by  to  hear 
Mr.  Choate.  I  consider  him  the  most  interesting 
man  for  impassioned  oratory  I  ever  heard.  He 
had  a  faculty  which  few  men  possess,  of  never  tir- 


■:'|ir 


I  Hi . 


5G 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


ing  his  hearers.  Several  years  after,  I  heard  him 
in  the  Supreme  Court  argue  the  case  of  the  boun- 
dary hne  between  Rhode  Ishmd  and  Massachu- 
setts. It, was  as  dull  a  case  as  any  ordinary  land- 
ejectment  suit.  I  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  how 
Mr.  Choate  could  interest  an  audience  under  such 
circumstances.  The  court  had  been  occupied  five 
days  by  some  of  the  ablest  lawyers.  The  room 
was  thronged  to  hear  Mr.  Choate's  reply.  From 
the  moment  he  commenced,  he  enchained  the  au- 
dience and  enlivened  the  dull  subject  by  apt  his- 
torical allusions  and  pleasing  illustrations.  The 
logical  connection  of  his  argument  was  excellent, 
and  so  well-arranged  that  in  two  hours  he  had 
finished  a  thoroui2;li  arii;ument  which  w;is  inter- 
spersed  throughout  with  sublime  imagery.  K\ery 
paragraph  was  as  the  turning  of  a  kaleidoscope, 
where  new  and  brilliant  images  are  presented  at 
every  turn.  At  the  conclusion  of  that  speech,  I 
was  confirmed  in  the  opinion  that  he  was  the 
greatest  orator  I  ever  heard,  —  in  this  respect 
greater  than  Calhoun,  Clay,  or  Webster." 

A  correspondent,  long  intimate  with  Mr.  Choate, 
and  having  the  best  means  of  forming  opinions  as 
to  his  natural  gifts,  calls  my  attention  to  a  work 
with  an  auriferous  title  which  I  had  overlooked.^ 

^  In  his  letter,  Professor  Sanborn  says,  "  Colonel  Parker,  in  his 

Golden  A<jc  of  Anitrican  Orators,  a  work  much  read  by   students, 


II 


Clio  ATE' S  RIVALS  IN  ORATORY. 


57 


i 


On  taking  up  the  book,  I  leani  that  jMr.  Choate 
■was  "  the  first  and  foremost  of  made  orators,"  but 
"was  not  a  natural  orator  —  a  born  orator,"  — 
though  "  Chatham  and  Patrick  Henry  were  nat- 
ural orators  of  superior  order,  and  Henry  Clay 
was  of  the  same  school." 

The  statement  that  Choate  was  not  a  natural 
orator  would  disturb  no  one  who  could  accept  the 
suggestion  that  Dr.  Johnson  was  not  a  natural 
critic,  or  Faraday  a  born  chemist.  The  inference 
would  be  that  each  of  them  had  to  "  toil  terribly  " 

attempts  to  [)rove  that  Mr.  Choate  was  not  '  a  natural  orator,'  like 
Henry  and  Clay.  I  think  that  Mr.  Choate's  early  history  refutes 
that  theory.  1  learned  from  Professor  Shurtleff,  his  teacher,  some- 
thing of  his  elo(iuence  in  college.  lie  then  gives  an  extract  from 
Choate's  Valedictory  Address,  which,  so  far  as  I  can  judirC)  indi- 
cates the  freeilom  and  range  of  thought  and  the  felicity  of  expres- 
sion that  might  distinguish  an  orator  '  to  the  manner  born,'  and 
ad<ls,  '  In  this  brief  pai-agraph  are  the  key-notes  of  his  life  —  attach- 
ment to  friends,  love  of  leiirning,  ami  admiration  of  nature.  The 
Professor  also  mentions  two  circumstances  which  illust.''ato  the 
character  of  the  address  and  the  effect  of  its  delivery,  from  which  it 
might  be  inferred  that,  if  nature  ever  "trieil  her  prentice  hanu  "  in 
fashioning  a  com[)lete  orator,  she  did  so  with  young  Choate.  lie 
says  that  when  Choate  spoke,  "  His  pathos  drew  tears  from  many 
who  were  not  used  to  the  melting  mood."  Also  that  '-One  rustic 
maiden  was  there  from  Norwich,  Vt.  She  was  all  ears,  eyes,  and 
heart  ;  she  gazed  and  wept.  On  the  following  ]\Ionday,  wdiile  bend- 
ing over  the  wash-tub,  she  said,  '  ]\Iother,  you  can't  think  how 
pretty  that  young  man  who  had  the  valedictory,  spoke.  He  was 
••  interesting  that  I  cried;  and,  law  I'  she  added,  holding  up  her 
checkered  apron  to  her  eyes,  '  I  can't  help  crying  now,  only  think- 
ing ou 't.'" 


U,^  1' 


58 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  CIIOArE. 


in  climbing  up  to  the  eminence  attained.  The 
idea  is  as  simple  as  that  the  tillage  of  the  soil 
makes  possible  the  harvest.  But  we  are  distiu'bed 
when  told  that  some  men  —  Ciiatham,  Henry,  and 
Clay  —  were,  as  distinguished  from  Choate,  nat- 
m\al,  or  born  orators. 

English  authors  have  paid  due  attention  to  the 
preparatory  studies  of  Lord  Chatham  and  of  his 
son.  Nature,  prodigal  in  gifts,  left  to  each  the 
common  legacy  of  toil  as  the  condition  of  his  be- 
cominii:  an  orator.  We  are  told  that  "  The  best 
clew  to  Pitt's  (Chatham's)  own  mental  tasks,  more 
especially  in  the  field  of  oratory,  is  afforded  by 
those  which  he  enjoined  to  this  favorite  son."  We 
are  also  told,  on  the  authority  of  Stanhope,  that 
"  The  son  ascribed  his  lucid  order  of  reasoning  to 
his  early  study  of  the  Aristotelian  logic,  and  his 
ready  choice  of  words  to  his  father's  practice  in 
making  him  every  day,  after  reading  over  to  him- 
self some  paper  on  the  classics,  translate  it  aloud 
and  continuously  into  English  prose."  As  to  Pat- 
rick Henry,  1  would  abate  none  of  the  praise  that 
can  l)e  l)est()\ved  upon  him  consistently  with  na- 
ture and  with  experience.  But  it  may  be  observed 
that,  like  many  fluent  speakers,  he  had  acquired 
great  experience  by  talking'-  "  an  infinite  deal  of 
nothing  "  up  to  the  hour  when  the  vision  of  our 
independence,  to  be  achieved  by  war,  opened  be- 


VIEWS  OF  ISAAC   GRAXT   THOMPSON. 


59 


"I 


fore  him  ns  an  apocalypse,  transformed  his  spirit, 
and  irave  a  proplietic  tone  to  his  utterances.  As 
to  Henry  Clay,  I  need  only  recall  his  efforts  in 
the  debating  society  to  cultivate  a  hahit  of  speak- 
ing, and  his  confession,  made  long  after,  to  a  class 
of  students,  that  he  owed  his  "  success  in  life  to 
the  habit,  early  formed  and  for  some  years  con- 
tinued, of  reading  daily  in  a  book  of  history  or 
science,  and  declaiming  the  substance  of  what  he 
had  read  in  some  solitary  place."  In  this,  Mr.  Clay 
was  not  peculiar.  Wheaton,  in  his  life  of  William 
Pinkney,  says  that  "He  always  continued  to  de- 
claim in  private." 

But  in  the  chapter  "  On  the  Study  of  Forensic 
Eloquence,"  which  Mr.  Isaac  Grant  Thompson  has 
inserted  in  his  edition  of  '"  \yarren's  Law  Studies  " 

—  perfecting  the  work  by  the  scholarly  treatment 
of  an  important  topic  which  Warren  had  neglected 

—  illustrative  instances  are  given.  He  regards 
"  the  opinion  that  excellence  in  speaking  is  a  gift 
of  nature,  and  not  the  result  of  patient  and  per- 
sistent labor  and  study,"  as  mischievous ;  and 
happily  enforces  that  view  by  referring  to  the 
studious  efforts  of  Cicero,  Chatliam,  and  Fox,  Cur- 
ran,  Choate,  and  others.  Of  Choate,  he  saj's,  '"  Fo- 
rensic rhetoric  was  the  great  study  of  his  life,  and 
he  pursued  it  with  a  patience,  a  steadiness,  a  zeal, 
equal  to  that  of  Chatham  and  Curran."     He  re- 


I 


ill 


60 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


inincls  lis  thiit  Murray,  afterwards  Lord  Mansfield, 
carried  on  the  study  of  oratory  with  the  utmost 
zeal,  and  that  ca  friend  had  caught  him  in  ''  the 
act  of  practicing  ])efore  a  glass,  ^vhilc  Pope  (the 
poet)  sat  by  to  aid  him,  in  the  character  of  an  in- 
structor," and  adds,  "  Such  are  the  arts  by  ^vhicll 
are  produced  those  results  that  the  uninitiated  as- 
cribe to  genius." 

This  matter  is  of  present  interest,  as  I  would 
not  have  the  student  adopt  the  notion  that  Mr. 
Choatc  was  goaded  on  in  his  studies  by  a  sense  of 
want  of  which  other  great  orators  had  not  been 
conscious.  Nor  should  he  regard  the  statement 
that  Chatham  and  others  were  natural  orators  as 
signifying  anything  more  than  that  they  possessed 
gifts  favorable  to  the  cultivation  of  eloquence.  A 
good  memory  and  ready  command  of  language, 
fine  and  quick  perception,  delicate  wit  and  fancy, 
a  fervid  hnagination,  an  exquisite  sense  of  the 
beautiful,  a  voice  sweetly  tormenting  the  hearer, 
even  in  the  remembrance  of  it,  a  gracefid  and  im- 
pressive manner,  —  all  of  which  Mr.  Choate  had, 
—  however  important  as  prerequisites,  do  not 
qualify  the  orator.  It  is  his  oilice  to  instruct, 
persuade,  and  convince ;  but  without  study  there 
can  be  no  knowledge,  without  knowledge  no  ar- 
gument, without  argument  no  real  influence  in 
the  discussion  and  disposition  of  public  affairs.    In 


II 11  i 


1 

! 


^HT: 


CRITICAL  AND  EXACTING  AUDIENCES.       61 

the  courts  find  in  Icirislativc  and  popular  assem- 
blies, the  question  certain  to  arise  is,  whether  the 
speaker  is  master  of  his  suhject  in  its  substance, 
details,  and  relations.  The  persons  addressed  may 
distinguish  immature  from  ripe  thought ;  informa- 
tion from  knowledge  ;  mere  impressions  from  ex- 
perience. They  know  tiiat,  while  the  voice  may 
be  train(Hl  for  oral  discourse,  as  it  may  be  for 
mKsic,  the  mind  should  have  a  corresponding  cul- 
ture. Many  of  them,  pitiless  as  critics,  w^ould  ac- 
cept the  statement  of  Cicero  that  the  orator  must 
possess  a  knowledge  of  many  sciences,  without 
which  a  mere  liow  of  words  is  vain;  and  would 
agree  with  Dr.  Johnson,  when  he  checked  the 
praise  bestowed  on  a  fine  speaker,  not  often  heard, 
as  having  irreat  resources,  "  You  cannot  know  as 
yet ;  the  pump  works  well,  but  how  are  we  to 
know  whether  it  is  supplied  by  a  spring  or  a 
reservoir  ? "  Mr.  Choate's  view  of  the  studies 
proper  to  the  orator  was  most  exacting.  His  ideal 
of  excellence  in  oratory,  considering  it  as  one  of 
the  line  arts,  may  have  been  so  high  that  he 
never  could  have  fully  satisfied  his  own  aspira- 
tions. But,  in  his  lectures  and  addresses,  his  sen- 
timents are  given  in  the  spirit  of  an  unfaltering 
disciple ;  his  precepts  have  an  electric  touch  — 
glow  like  stars  in  the  firmament  of  thought.  lie 
knew  what  he  tauuht,  in  larii:e  measure,  and  in 


m  i 


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MEMORIES  OF  nUFUS   CIIOATE. 


I 


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minute  details.  lie  fortified  himself  hy  appeals 
to  hiistory,  to  experience,  and  to  natural  laws. 
The  moral  element  in  his  topics,  however  obscure, 
never  eludes  his  grasp  ;  the  most  rugged  event 
or  feature  he  touches  palpitates  as  with  a  spirit 
of  life  and  beauty.  The  philosopliy  of  history  is 
taught  suggestively,  not  by  a  tedious  process,  but 
Hashes  upon  the  page  as  a  revelation.  His  illus- 
trations have  a  logical  llavor ;  his  inferences  the 
certainty  of  mathematical  deductions ;  and  his  lan- 
guage, when  rising  to  the  utmost  fervor,  is  tem- 
pered by  earnest  and  constant  attention  to  prac- 
tical affairs.  The  student  may,  therefore,  follow 
him  with  assured  steps.  Indeed,  no  student  should 
fail  to  study  addresses  like  those  on  "  The  Colonial 
Age  of  New  England,"  on  "  The  Power  of  a  State 
Developed  by  Mental  Culture,"  on  "  The  Conser- 
vative Force  of  the  American  Bar,"  and  on  "  The 
Elorpience  of  Revolutionary  Periods." 

He  who  has  given  his  days  and  nights  to  De- 
mosthenes and  Cicero,  Thucydides  and  Tacitus, 
will  find  his  apprehensions  quickened,  and  the 
wealth  he  has  garnered  up  in  his  mind  enriched 
by  the  spirit  of  Mr.  Choate's  expositions. 


m  i 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Vacations  for  Reading.  —  Studies  with  TJonks  and  witliout 
them.  —  Conversations  with  Mr.  I'rutt  and  .Air.  Carpenter. 
—  Solicitude  as  to  Improvement.  —  Taste,  Illustrations  of. — 
Formation  of  Character.  —  Coloinal  Experience. 

It  has  boon  considered  straiif^o  tliat,  with  all 
his  work,  JMr.  Chotite  could  find  time  lor  classical 
study.  The  ex[)lanation  may  1)0  found  in  his  in- 
tellectual motiiods,  and  in  his  mental  tictivity  and 
economy  of  time. 

In  his  address  at  the  dedication  of  the  Peabody 
Institute,  he  gave  advice  to  those  who  were  in 
pursuit  of  knowledge  under  difficulties  and  re- 
straints, in  which  he  seems  to  have  drawn  upon 
his  own  experience.  He  reminded  them  that  va- 
cations for  the  still  air  of  delightful  studies  were 
fragments  of  time,  —  half-hours  before  the  morn- 
ing or  midday  meal  was  ready,  a  rainy  after- 
noon, the  priceless  evening,  —  and  that  such  were 
the  chances  they  could  borrow  or  create  for  the 
luxury  of  reading.  Mr.  Choatc  himself  gave  to 
study  the  time  he  might  well  have  given,  the  time 
others  gave,  to  repose.     He  could  read  some  verses 


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MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


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in  the  Greek  Testament,  a  few  lines  in  Virgil,  in 
Bacon,  or  in  Burke,  and  go  out  to  his  walk  repeat- 
intr  these  lessons  in  their  order  and  turns.  I  do 
not  know  that  he  ever  advised  others  to  adopt 
this  method,  but  it  was  wisely  chosen  for  nimself. 
He  could  thus  lessen  the  burden  of  study  by  so 
chani2:infj;  its  forms  as  to  combine  intellectual  and 
physical  exercise,  and,  in  passing  from  one  form  of 
study  to  another,  find  relaxation. 

Such  may  have  been  his  habits  when  he  was 
young,  and  in  practice  at  Salem.  A  correspond- 
ent of  Mr.  Parker  says  that,  in  Mr.  Choate's  long, 
solitary  walks  in  the  pastures,  his  "  full  and 
melodious  voice  was  sometimes  heard  by  other 
strollers  in  those  solitudes."  In  his  "  Recollections 
of  Mr.  Choate,"  Mr.  E.  P.  Whipple  refers  to  this 
habit  of  out-door  study,  and  says  that,  when  he 
met  Mr.  Choate  in  one  of  his  contemplative  moods, 
he  made  it  a  point  of  honor  not  to  interrupt  his 
meditations. 

In  the  last  conversation  I  had  with  the  late 
Matt.  II.  Carpenter,  Mr.  Choate's  special  studies 
with  his  books  and  without  them  were  mentioned. 
Among  other  things,  Mr.  Carpenter  said,  "  It  was 
one  of  the  efforts  of  Mr.  Choate's  professional  life 
to  extend  and  perfect  what  he  called  a  lawyer-like 
memory.  In  his  view,  a  mere  every-day  memory, 
left  to  take  care  of  itself,  would  not  enable  an 


CULTIVATION  OF  MEMORY. 


65 


advocate  so  to  hold  in  mind  as  instantly  to  recall, 
for  use,  the  facts  disclosed  in  a  long  trial  l^efore  a 
jury,  and  the  name,  appearance,  and  manner,  the 
speech,  too  ready  or  too  reluctant,  of  each  witness 
examined."  He  also  said,  *'  Mr.  Choate  had  found 
that  special  kind  of  memory  improved  by  reading 
fragments  of  authors  on  divers  disconnected  sub- 
j(*cts,  and  recalling  and  repeating  them  after  his 
books  had  been  laid  aside." 

As  Mr.  Choate's  faith  in  study  was  unqualified, 
we  can  well  believe  that,  to  one  who  spoke  of  a 
line,  intellectual  performance  as  the  result  of  acci- 
dent or  inspiration,  he  said,  "  Nonsense  !  you  might 
as  well  drop  the  Greek  alphabet  on  the  ground 
and  expect  to  pick  up  the  '  Iliad.'  " 

I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  Edward  I^llerton  Pratt 
for  some  interesting  particulars.  He  says,  "  Mr. 
Choate  was  the  most  imtiring  worker  I  ever  met. 
He  was  up  by  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  as  a 
rule,  made  a  cup  of  tea  for  himself,  worked  a  while 
over  his  books,  went  out  for  a  walk,  came  home 
to  breakfast,  went  to  business  at  nine,  worked  all 
day,  and  perhaps  was  before  some  legislative  com- 
mittee for  an  argument  in  the  evening ;  and  I 
have  known  him  to  be  all  that  time  without 
taking  any  food.  Indeed,  I  have  seen  a  check 
for  half  a  dollar  which  he  had  given  at  the  close 
of  such  a  day,  when,  having  no  money  with  him, 
5 


^ 


■wi' 

! 

1 

66 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


he  had  become  conscious  of  the  need  of  refresh- 
ment. 

"  When  the  late  James  T.  Fields  was  collecting 
and  editing  Thomas  De  Quincey's  works,  he  showed 
Mr.  Choate  an  article  which  had  appeared  in  some 
magazine,  with  no  external  evidence  as  to  the  au- 
thor. On  looking  over  it,  Mr.  Choate  said  it  was 
written  by  De  Quincey.  Mr.  Fields  then  wrote  to 
De  Quincey,  who  answered  that  he  had  not  written 
the  paper,  had  never  thought  of  the  subject-mat- 
ter of  it.  With  some  exultation,  Mr.  Fields  showed 
that  letter  to  Mr.  Choate,  who  said,  '  Never  you 
mind  ;  let  me  have  the  article  again,  and  I  will  go 
over  it  more  carefully.*  He  did  so,  and  the  next 
day  Mr.  Choate  wrote  him,  '  De  Quincey  did  write 
it,  De  Quincey  to  the  contrary,  notwithstanding.' 
After  a  time,  De  Quincey  sent  to  Mr.  Fields  the 
original  manuscript  of  the  article,  with  a  letter 
stating  that  he  had  found  it  among  old  papers ; 
and,  as  it  was  the  work  of  his  pen,  he  must  confess 
the  authorship,  though  all  recollection  of  it  had 
passed  away. 

"  In  his  studies,  Mr.  Choate  kept  pace  with  the 
colleges,  and  with  modern  thought  as  there  illus- 
trated. He  used  to  buy  the  text-books  of  Harvard 
and  Yale,  beginning  with  the  Freshman  year,  and, 
in  effect,  graduating  with  the  students.  I  once 
asked  him  why  he  did  this.    He  said,  *  I  don't  like 


!i   ! 


MODE  AXD  METHOD  OF  TRANSLATION.       07 


to  have  those  young  fellows  come  out  of  college 
crowing  over  me  ;  they  fresh  and  bright,  I  dull 
and  rusty  ;  we  must  habitually  go  back  to  the 
elements,  first  principles,  and  note  new  applica- 
tions of  them  by  those  whose  special  business  it 
is  to  teach." 

In  his  zealous  striving  after  higher  culture,  Mr. 
Choate  had  a  steadfast  belief  in  the  value  of  trans- 
lation as  an  intellectual  discipline,  and  as  a  means 
of  testing  the  power  and  spirit  of  our  words  as 
equivalents  for  the  words  of  other  languages. 
Speaking  of  Mr.  Choate's  method  in  tra^'-slating, 
Professor  Parsons  says,  "  He  would  return  day 
after  day  to  the  same  passage,  until  he  had  ex- 
hausted the  resources  of  the  language  in  giving  to 
the  sentence  exactness,  strength,  and  elegance." 

In  the  "  Reminiscences,"  Mr.  Parker  reports 
Mr.  Choate  as  saying,  "  Translation  should  be  pur- 
sued to  bring  to  mind,  and  to  employ,  all  the  words 
you  already  own,  and  to  tax  and  torment  invention 
and  discovery,  and  the  very  deepest  memory  for 
addition."  1,  rich,  and  admirably  expressive  words. 
In  translating,  the  student  should  not  put  down 
a  word  until  he  has  thought  of  at  least  six  syno- 
nyms, or  varieties  of  expression,  for  the  idea.  I 
would  have  him  fastidious  and  eager  enough  to  go, 
not  unfrequently,  half  round  his  library  puUing 
down  books  to  hunt  up  a  word  —  the  word." 


«  V- 


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68 


Af EMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


By  this  kind  of  work,  Mr.  Choatc  sought  to  per- 
fect hi.s  knowledge  of  things  as  well  os  of  words. 
Thus,  he  says,  that,  in  translating  Cicero's  "  Cati- 
line Orations,"  he  had  in  view  the  matter  and  the 
manner  of  a  great  master  of  speech,  and  a  remark- 
able portion  of  history.  So,  also,  he  translated 
Thucydides  for  the  purpose  of  deducing  lessons  of 
history  and  applying  them  to  America. 

In  his  Journal,  Mr.  Choate  recalls  with  fidelity, 
as  if  for  his  own  encouragement  or  admonition, 
his  studies  in  various  departments.  At  times  he 
seems  hopeful,  almost  glad  in  view  of  what  he 
perceives  he  may  attain  ;  at  other  times,  he  ap- 
pears sad,  as  if  his  studies  had  been  partial  and 
inadequate.  As  an  instance,  after  lie  had  gar- 
nered up  in  his  mind  and  heart  such  wealth  of 
learning  as  only  one  so  devoted  and  receptive 
could  acquire,  we  find  him  saying :  — 

"  I  have  written  only  this  translation  of  Quin- 
tilian  since  Saturday ;  professional  engagements 
have  hindered  me.  But  I  have  carefully  read  a 
page  or  two  in  Johnson's  Dryden  and  a  scene  or 
two  of  '  Antony  and  Cleopatra '  every  morning  — 
marking  any  felicity  or  available  peculiarity  of 
phrase  —  have  launched  Ulysses  from  the  Isle  of 
Calypso,  and  brought  him  in  sight  of  Phteacia, 
kept  along  in  Tacitus,  and  am  reading  a  pretty 
paper  in  the  *  Memoirs '  on  the  old  men  of  Ho- 


h., 


SPECIAL  STUDIES. 


69 


mcr.  1  read  Homer  more  easily  and  with  more 
appreciation,  thougli  "svith  no  helps  but  Cowper 
and  Donneiran's  Lexicon.  Fox  and  Cannin<i:'s 
speeches  are  a  more  professional  study,  not  use- 
less, not  negligently  pursued.  Alas,  alas  I  there  is 
no  time  to  realize  the  dilating  and  bin-ning  idea 
of  excellence  and  eloquence  inspired  by  the  great 
gallery  of  the  innnortals  in  which  I  walk !  " 

Again,  he  says,  "  How  difficult  it  is  to  arrest 
these  moments,  to  aggregate  them,  to  till  them, 
as  it  were,  to  make  them  day  by  day  extend  our 
knowledge,  refine  our  tastes,  accomplish  our  whole 
culture  I " 

His  solicitude  as  to  the  improvement  of  his 
taste  is  freely  confessed.     Thus  he  says:  — 

"  I  have-  been  long  in  the  practice  of  reading 
daily  some  first-class  English  v/riier,  chiefly  for 
the  copia  verhorum,  to  avoid  sinking  into  cheap 
and  bald  fluency,  to  give  elevation,  energy,  sono- 
rousness, and  refinement  to  my  vocabulary.  Yet 
with  this  ol)ject  I  would  unite  other  and  higher 
objects,  —  the  acquisition  of  things,  —  taste,  criti- 
cism, facts  of  biography,  images,  sentiments." 

In  the  same  spirit,  as  to  a  contemplated  course 
of  study,  he  says :  — 

"  The  investigations  it  will  exact ;  the  collec- 
tions of  authorities ;  the  constant  use  of  the  pen, 
the  translations,  the  speculations,  ought  to  consti- 


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70 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


tute  an  admirable  exercise  in  reasoning,  in  taste, 
in  rhetoric,  as  well  as  in  history." 

Again,  noting  some  classical  works  he  must 
have  and  use  on  a  journey,  he  says,  "  This,  lest 
taste  should  sleep  and  die,  for  which  no  compen- 
sations shall  pay." 

Referriui":  to  a  course  of  readinii:  considered  too 
desultory,  he  states  the  benefits  thus  :  — 

"  No  doubt  taste  has  been  improved,  sentiments 
enlarged,  language  heightened,  and  many  of  the 
effects,  inevitable,  insensible,  and  abiding,  of  lib- 
eral culture,  impressed  on  the  spirit." 

Mr.  Choate's  taste  was  exacting  and  severe  in 
a  sense  not  perhaps  to  the  fancy  of  some  senti- 
mental scholars ;  of  this  a  few  words  from  Chief 
Justice  Chapman  may  be  illustrative.  lie  says  of 
Mr.  Choate,  "  He  was  talking  of  Burke's  speeches, 
of  which  he  was  known  to  be  a  great  admirer,  and 
remarked  to  a  friend  of  mine  who  was  extolling 
Burke  above  all  other  men,  that  he  thought  on 
the  whole  that  the  most  eloquent  and  mellifluous 
talk  that  was  ever  put  together  in  the  English 
language  was  the  speech  of  Mr.  Standfast  in  the 
river.  I  went  home  and  read  the  speech  soon 
afterwards,  and  I  confess  I  appreciated  John  Bun- 
yan's  eloquence  as  I  never  had  done  before." 

In  a  plea  for  mental  culture  Mr.  Choate  refers 
to  John  Quincy  Adams,  "  the  old  man  eloquent," 


ADVICE   TO  A    STUDEXT. 


71 


Is 

\1 


and  finds  him  using  "  the  liappiest  word,  the 
aptest  literary  illustration,  the  exact  detail,  the 
precise  rhetorical  instrument,  the  ease  demands." 
Mr.  Choate  had  a  clear  conception  of  the  means 
by  which  sucli  powers  of  arL^ument  might  possibly 
be  ac(iuired.  His  theory  of  preparatory  study  was 
as  exacting  as  that  of  Hugh  Miller,  who  thought 
that  an  anatomical  acquaintance  with  the  bones 
and  muscles  was  necessary  for  the  painter  who 
represents  the  human  figm-e,  and  that  he  who 
describes  natural  scenery  should  know  the  strata 
and  the  science  of  the  rocks. 

In  a  letter  of  advice  to  a  student,  —  Richard  S. 
Storrs,  Jr.,  —  Mr.  Choate  says,  "  As  immediately 
preparatory  to  the  study  of  the  law,  I  should  fol- 
low the  usual  suggestion,  to  review  thorougldy 
English  history,  —  constitutional  history  in  Hallam 
particularly,  and  American  constitutional  and  civil 
history  in  Pitkin  and  Story.  Rutherford's  In- 
stitutes, and  the  best  course  of  moral  philosophy 
you  can  find,  will  bo  very  valuable  introductory 
consolhhdhnj  matter.  Aristotle's  Politics,  and  all 
of  Edmiuid  Burke's  works,  and  all  of  Cicero's 
works  would  form  ar  admiral »le  course  of  read- 
ing, '  a  library  of  eloquence  and  reason,'  to  form 
the  .sentiments  and  polish  the  tastes,  and  fertilize 
and  enlarge  the  mind  of  a  young  man  aspiring  to 
be  a  lawyer  and  statesman.     Cicero  and  Burke  I 


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72 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE. 


would  know  by  lieart ;  both  superliitively  great, — 
the  hitter  the  greatest,  hving  in  n  later  age,  be- 
longing to  the  modern  mind  and  genius,  though 
the  former  had  more  power  over  an  audience,  — 
both  knew  everything. 

"  I  would  read  every  day  one  page  at  least,  — 
more  if  you  can,  —  in  some  fine  English  writer, 
solely  for  elegant  style  and  expression.  Willijim 
Pinkney  said  to  a  friend  of  mine,  '  He  never  read 
a  fine  sentence  in  any  author  without  connnitting 
it  to  memory.'  The  result  was  decidedly  the  most 
splendid  and  most  powerful  English  spoken  style  I 
ever  heard." 

A  like  result  may  be  traced  to  Mr.  Choate  him- 
self. Perhaps  no  great  orator  ever  owed  less  to 
borrowed  thoughts  and  forms  of  speech,  or,  in  a 
higher  and  better  sense,  more  to  the  ministration 
of  other  minds.  But  the  benefits  were  absorbed  by 
a  process  as  natural  as  that  by  which  trees  gather 
nutriment  from  the  sun,  air,  rain,  and  from  a  gen- 
erous soil.  In  reading  him,  we  are  reminded  of 
his  favorite  authors.  As,  in  hearing  a  preacher 
full  of  divine  instruction,  one  may  perceive  indi- 
cations of  his  familiarity  with  the  Scriptures,  so 
Mr.  Choate  reveals  his  intimate  communion  with 
master  minds. 

It  was  perhaps  well  for  him  that  some  degree 
of  poverty  fell   to   his   early  lot.     I   believe  he 


FORMATION  OF  CIIAF  iCTER. 


73 


would  have  chosen  such  a  lot,  had  the  choice  been 
left  to  him.  He  valued,  as  few  men  have  valued, 
the  discipline  and  the  strength  which  came  as  the 
fruits  of  toil  and  study  ;  the  I'aith  and  the  con- 
stancy of  those  who,  having  sown  the  seed,  could 
wait  patiently  for  the  harvest.  He  appears  to 
have  had  a  clear  concei)tion  of  the  s[)iritual  mean- 
iuir  which   resides  in  material  thin<i:s,  and  of  the 


n'"' 


li 


iw  of  compensation 


that 


(governs  men  m  fi 


all  tl 


leir 


relations,  and  makes  or  mars  their  fortunes. 

To  illustrate  his  views  as  to  the  fornuition  of 
character  and  the  elements  which  may  minister  to 
its  strength,  I  quote  a  few  detached  passages  from 


one  of 


Ins 


lectu 


re- 


After  having  referred  to  the  planting  of  the 
Colonies  along  our  coast,  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, and  to  events  which  furnished  the  matter  of 
colonial  history,  he  says,  "  I  regard  those  events 
altogether  as  forming  a  vast  and  various  series  of 
inlluences,  —  a  long,  austere,  effective  course  of 
discipline  and  instruction,  —  by  which  the  early 
settlers  and  their  children  were  slowly  and  pain- 
fully trained  to  achieve  their  independence,  to 
form  their  constitutions  of  State  governments  and 
of  Federal  government,  and  to  act  usefully  and 
greatly  their  part  as  a  separate  political  commu- 
nity in  the  high  places  of  the  world. 

"  It  has  been  said  that  there  was  never  a  great 


m 


1 


i.  i 


III! 


t< 


I 


.  '  I 


4-t 


':i\ 


'.4 


T 


^ 


74 


}f EMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


character,  —  never  a  truly  strong,  masculine,  com- 
manding character,  —  which  was  not  made  so  hy 
Huccessivc  strn<i:gles  with  great  diirundties.  Such 
is  the  general  rule  of  the  moral  world,  undoubt- 
edly. All  history,  all  l)iogra|)hy,  verify  and  illus- 
trate it,  and  none  more  remarkably  than  our  own. 
It  has  seemed  to  me  probalde  that  if  the  Puritans, 
on  their  arrival  here,  had  found  a  home  like  that 
they  left,  and  a  social  system  made  ready  for  them, 
—  if  they  had  found  the  forest  felled,  roads  con- 
structed, rivers  bridged,  fields  sown,  houses  built, 
a  rich  soil,  a  bright  sun,  and  a  balmy  air ;  if  Eng- 
land had  covered  over  their  infancy  with  her 
mighty  wing,  spared  charters,  widened  trade,  and 
knit  child  to  mother  by  parental  policy,  —  it  is 
probable  that  that  impulse  of  high  mind,  and  that 
unconquerable  constancy  of  the  first  innnigrants, 
might  have  subsided  before  the  epoch  of  the  drama 
of  the  Kevolution.  Their  children  might  have 
grown  light,  luxurious,  vain,  and  the  sacred  fire 
of  liberty,  cherished  by  the  fathers  in  the  times 
of  the  Tudors  and  Stuarts,  might  have  died  away 
in  the  hearts  of  a  feeble  posterity. 

''  Ours  was  a  difterent  destiny.  I  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  the  whole  colonial  age  was  a  scene  of 
universal  and  constant  suffering  and  labor,  and 
that  there  was  no  repose.  But  in  its  general 
course,  it  was  a  time  of  suffering  and  of  privation. 


ISrirEXrE  OF  LOVE  FOlt  UllEllTY 


75 


of  poverty  or  inediocrity  of  fortune,  of  wleepless 
ni^uhts,  grave  duties,  serious  aims  ;  ami  I  say  it 
wns  a  trial  better  fitted  to  train  u[)  a  nation  '  in 
true  wisdom,  virtue,  magnanimity,  and  the  likeness 
of  God,'  —  better  fitted  to  form  temperate  habits, 
strong  character,  resolute  spirits,  and  all  the  radi- 
ant train  of  public  and  private  virtues  which  stand 
before  the  stars  of  the  throne  w  liberty, —  than 
any  similar  period  in  the  history  of  any  nation,  or 


of 


any 


but 


one. 


that 


ever  cis 


ted. 


"  The  necessaries  of  freedom  if  T  may  say  so, 
—  its  plainer  food  and  honulier  garments  and 
humbler  habitations,  —  were  theirs.  Its  luxuries 
and  refinements,  its  festival?,  it:^  lettered  ami  so- 
cial glory,  its  loftier  poit  and  prouder  look  and 
richer  graces,  were  tlie  growth  of  a  later  day ; 
these  came  in  with  independence.  Here  was  lib- 
erty enough  to  make  them  love  it  for  itself,  and 
to  fill  them  with  those  lofty  and  kindred  senti- 
ments which  are  at  once  its  fruit  and  its  nutri- 
ment, and  safeguard  in  the  soul  of  man.  But  their 
liberty  was  still  incomplete,  and  it  was  constantly 
in  danger  from  England  ;  and  these  two  circum- 
stances  had  a  powerful  elTect  in  increasing  that 
love  and  cor  firming  those  sentiments.  It  was  a 
condition  precisely  adapted  to  keep  liberty,  as  a 
subject  of  thought  and  feeling  and  desire,  every 
moment  in  mind.     Every  moment  they  were  com- 


;■* 


n^ 


M 


f\ 


! 


rw 


M 


76 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


paring  what  they  had  possessed  with  what  they 
wanted  and  had  a  right  to ;  they  were  restive  and 
impatient  and  ill  at  ease ;  a  galling  wakefulness 
possessed  their  faculties  like  a  spell.  Had  they 
been  wholly  slaves,  they  had  lain  still  and  slept. 
Had  they  been  wholly  free,  that  eager  hope,  that 
fond  desire,  that  longing  after  a  great,  distant, 
yet  practical  good  would  have  given  way  to  the 
placidity  and  luxury  and  carelessness  of  complete 
enjoyment ;  and  that  energy  and  wholesome  agi- 
tation of  mind  would  have  gone  down  like  an 
ebb-tide.  As  it  was,  the  whole  vast  body  of 
waters  all  over  its  surface,  down  to  its  sunless, 
utuiost  depths,  was  heaved  and  shaken  and  puri- 
fied by  the  spirit  that  moved  above  it  and  through 
it,  and  gave  it  no  rest,  though  the  moon  waned 
and  the  winds  were  in  their  caves  ;  they  were  like 
the  disciples  of  the  old  and  bitter  philosophy  of 
Paganism,  who  had  been  initiated  into  one  stage 
of  the  greater  mysteries,  and  who  had  come  to 
the  door,  closed  and  written  over  with  strange 
characters,  which  led  up  to  another.  They  had 
tasted  the  truth  and  they  burned  for  a  fuller 
draught ;  a  partial  revelation  of  that  which  shall 
be  hereafter  had  dawned  ;  and  their  hearts 
throbbed  eager,  yet  not  w'ithout  apprehension,  to 
look  npon  the  glories  of  the  perfect  day.  Some 
of  the  mysteries  of  God,  of  Nature,  of  Man,  of  the 


'1 


4 


TRIUMPH  OF  PATIENCE  AND  ENERGY.       77 

Universe,  had  been  unfolded ;  might  they,  by 
prayer,  by  abstinence,  ])y  virtue,  by  retirement, 
by  contemplation,  entitle  themselves  to  read  an- 
other page  in  the  clasped  and  awful  volume  ? 

'"•  How  glorious  a  triumph  of  patience,  energy, 
perseverance,  intelligence,  and  faith  !  And  then, 
how  powerfully,  and  in  how  many  ways,  must  the 
fatigues,  privations,  interruptions,  and  steady  ad- 
vance, and  ultimate  completion  of  that  long  day's 
work  have  reacted  on  the  character  and  the  mind 
of  those  who  performed  it !  IIow  could  such  a 
people  ever  again,  if  ever  they  had  been,  be  idle 
or  frivolous  or  giddy  or  luxurious  ?  With  what 
a  resistless  accession  of  momentum  must  they  turn 
to  every  new,  manly,  honest,  and  worthy  labor ! 
How  truly  must  they  love  the  land  for  which  they 
have  done  so  much !  How  ardently  must  they 
desire  to  see  it  covered  over  with  the  beauty  of 
holiness  and  the  glory  of  freedom,  as  with  a  gar- 
ment !  With  what  a  just  and  manly  self-approba- 
tion must  they  look  back  on  such  labors  and  such 
success  ;  and  how  great  will  such  pride  make  any 
people !  " 

Thus  it  appears  that  this  man,  so  delicate,  re- 
fined, emotional,  with  a  keen  sense  of  what  was 
sweet  and  beautiful  in  life,  sentiment,  and  study, 
was  not  the  less  able  to  deal  with  stern  and  sober 
subjects,  to  appreciate  the  trials  and  struggles  of 


*,•?  i 


m 


m 


'  .  ilH 


|i  . 

Mm  ' 


V, 


' .  ■  ■  f 


f 


ii 


,  > 


tltiiiii 


WW 


h 


78 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


those  who  labored  in  obscurity  with  no  embellish- 
ment to  their  lives,  save  such  as  came  from  the 
performance  of  humble  yet  important  duties.  He 
loved  to  dwell  upon  and  illustrate  such  examples, 
and  may  have  found  strength  and  encouragement 
in  the  conviction  that  the  toil  and  service  which 
conferred  benefits  upon  others  would  most  surely 
enrich  himself. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Classical  Studies.  —  Ancient  Greece.  —  The  Saxon-;.  —  The 
Latin.  —  p]nglisli  in  India.  —  Macaulay's  Service,  —  As  to 
Equivalents  in  Saxon  for  Some  of  our  Words. 

By  way  of  review,  and  as  a  solace  in  weary 
hours,  Mr.  Clioate's  communion  with  the  chissics 
was  continued  to  the  end  of  his  hfe.  He  found 
therein  some  of  his  chief  delights  and  consola- 
tions ;  and,  in  final  token  of  his  appreciation  of 
them,  the  "  Iliad "  and  the  "  Georgics "  were 
among  the  books  selected  as  companions  in  his 
last  voyage. 

It  may  be  thought  that  such  studies  were  not 
wisely  chosen  or  pursued.  Such,  no  doubt,  is  the 
popular  impression.  Indeed,  some  authors  of  re- 
pute have  declared  that  an  acquaintance  with 
what  is  called  the  dead  languages  need  not  be 
sought  by  those  who  wish  to  excel  in  the  use  of 
English.  In  support  of  this  opinion,  reference  is 
made  to  instances  of  good,  exceedingly  good, 
English,  written  by  men  without  classical  train- 
ing, —  Franklin,  Erskine,  Shakespeare,  Bunyan, 
and  some  others. 


•fc 


!   ■  i 


-   ! 


Hi 


^CF 


1* 


i 


11 


l! 


80 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


Of  tliese  authors,  Bunyan  alone  is  well  cited. 
He  was,  indeed,  exceptional.  In  a  divine  frenzy, 
lie  could  look  into  his  heart  and  write. 

It  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  style  of  Frank- 
lin was  formed  by  the  study  of  "  The  Spectator," 
and  that  of  Erskine  by  intense  devotion  to  Mil- 
ton and  Burke ;  and  that,  in  seeking  to  acquire 
the  spirit  and  diction  of  authors  whose  English 
was  the  representative  and  outgrowth  of  classical 
study,  these  men  reaped  the  benefit  at  a  single 
remove. 

The  reference  to  Shakespeare,  as  an  example, 
is  not  fortunate.  The  saying  of  Ben  Jonson's 
that  Shakespeare  possessed  '•  small  Latin  and  less 
Greek,"  may  be  taken  as  proof  that  he  knew 
something  of  those  languages.  Of  his  early  youth 
and  studies,  we  know  nothing;  and,  where  much 
is  left  to  conjecture,  one  supposition  is  often  as 
good  as  another.  In  speaking  of  "  Love's  Labour  's 
Lost,"  Coleridge  refers  to  the  strong  presumption 
which  the  diction  and  allusions  of  that  play  afford 
of  Shakespeare's  scholarly  habits,  and  Mr.  Charles 
Knight  suggests  that  his  happy  employment  of 
ancient  mythology  lends  countenance  to  the  sup- 
position. As  to  the  "  Comedy  of  Errors,"  Knight 
says,  "  The  commentators  have  puzzled  them- 
selves, after  their  usual  fashion,  with  the  evidence 
this  play  undoubtedly  presents  of  Shakespeare's 


SHAKESPEARE  ASSISTED  BY  OTHERS. 


81 


ability  to  read  Latin,  and  their  dogged  resolution 
to  maintain  the  opinion  that,  in  an  age  ot  gram- 
mar-schools, our  poet  never  could  have  attained 
that  common  accomplishment." 

In  a  loving  and  profound  estimate  of  the  ele- 
ments of  greatness  peculiar  to  Shakespeare,  Em- 
erson notices  the  fact  that,  Avhen  he  came  from 
Stratford  to  London,  '"A  irreat  body  of  stage- 
plays,  of  all  dates  and  writers,  existed  in  manu- 
script," and  that  Shakespeare  altered  and  made 
them  his  own.  He  says,  "In  'Henry  YHL,'  I 
think  I  see  plainly  the  cropping  out  of  the  orig- 
inal rock  on  wliicli  his  own  finer  stratum  was  laid. 
The  first  play  was  written  by  a  superior,  thought- 
ful man,  with  a  vicious  ear.  I  can  mark  his  lines, 
and  know  well  their  cadence."  Emerson  accepts 
Malone's  laborious  computations  in  regard  to  the 
first,  second,  and  third  parts  of  '•  Henry  VL,"  in 
which  "out  of  0,04.3  lines,  l.TTl  were  written  by 
some  author  preceding  Shakespeare ;  2,o73  by 
him,  on  the  foundation  laid  by  his  predecessors ; 
and  1,899  were  entirely  his  own."  Thus,  in 
working  upon  materials,  excellent  in  themselves, 
the  outcome  of  many  other  minds.  —  the  minds, 
it  may  be,  of  students  in  history,  in  law,  in  medi- 
cine, and  in  the  classics,  —  Shakespeare  adopted 
parts  of  the  plays  which  now  bear  his  name.  His 
genius  enabled  him  to  make  mellow  music  of  what 


111 


i^ll 


lii 


=^^ 


m. 


82 


MEMORIES  OF  RVFUS  CIIOATE. 


had  been  discordant.  In  the  mass  of  preexisting 
phiys  and  tak's  from  which  he  drew,  there  must 
have  been  the  work  of  some  minds  of  classic  lore, 
so  tliat  if  we  were  compelled  to  .suppose  that  he 
had  none  of  it,  yet  his  works,  being  eclectic,  are 
not  fair  specimens  of  the  results  attainable  with- 
out the  aid  of  classical  studies. 

The  theoiy  as  to  the  value  of  such  studies  which 
contrasts  the  practice  of  the  ancient  Greeks  in  the 
use  of  their  language  with  the  treatment  given  to 
the  Saxon  and  the  Eni-'lish  need  not  here  receive 
much  attention.  It  is  said  that  the  Grc  ks  studied 
no  lanujuai'-e  but  their  own,  and,  reirarding  other 
tonu'ues  as  barbarous,  did  not  borrow  from  them. 
The  inference  souii:ht  to  be  drawn  would  seem  to 
be  that  a  like  course  should  have  been  pursued  in 
the  culture  and  use  of  the  Anglo-Saxon. 

It  is  to  be  remembered  that,  when  Ancient 
Greece  became  known  to  the  modern  world,  her 
hmguage  had  been  so  perfected  that  aid  from 
other  peoples  was  not  needed ;  and  that  the 
contributions  and  the  culture  which,  in  ante- 
Homeric  times,  had  given  supernal  grace  and 
beauty  to  her  speech  cannot  be  stated  or  defined. 
It  is  also  to  be  remembered  that  after  the  facts 
and  fables  found  in  Homer  had  been  considered, 
after  such  scholars  as  Person  and  Choate,  in  the 
spirit  of  their  studies,  standing  face  to  face  with 


77//;   GREEKS  OF  DUAL   ORIGIN. 


83 


5 


the  Greek,  could  in;ike  his  felieitie.s  of  speech 
their  own.  an  nnappeasable  curiosity  as  to  the 
early  progress  of  the  race  remained,  as  it  will 
remain  forever. 

Much  curious  research  and  ingenious  specula- 
tion have  been  displayed  in  the  endeavor  to  trace 
the  early  history  of  the  Greeks,  and  to  determine 
their  origin.  All  the  tests  afforded  l)y  philology,' 
ethnolo'gy,  and  geography  have  been  applied. 
On  philological  grounds  mainl}',  Mr.  Gladst(mc 
ascribes  a  dual  origin  to  the  Greek  people  like 
that  of  the  English.  The  f!:eneral  belief  of  his- 
torians  is,  that  a  race  known  as  Pelasgians.  at  a 
period  antecedent  to  -written  history,  spread  from 
the  .south  over  Greece  and  Italy.  They  are  de- 
scribed as  a  dark-eyed,  dark-haired,  swarthy, 
heavily-built  race,  industrious,  patient,  excelling 
in  agriculture  and  architecture.  These  character- 
istics lend  force  to  the  supposition  that  they  came 
from  Egypt ;  and  that  those  of  them  who  went 
to  Italy,  more  remote  from  the  early  centres  of 
population,  developed  the  best  capabilities  of  that 
race,  and.  by  their  substantial  qualities,  ^  iIJ.  the 
foundation  for  Roman  greatness.  Pat,  as  to 
Greece,  another  race,  the  Hellenic,  was  infused 
among  the  Pelasgi,  and  grafted  upon  the  stock. 
They  were  tall,  light-complexioned,  light-haired, 
blue-eyed,  enthusiastic  hunters  and  warriors,  and 


II' 


i. 


I  ,  ■ 


i     ! 

■hi 


lltl 


I1" 

nil 


^r 


|::i"i: 

1  ^m 

[\ 

I         ■ 

84 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


came  probably  from  a  mountainoii.s  country,  by 
northward-lying  paths,  through  Thrace  and  Mace- 
donia, into  Northern  Greece,  forcing  themselves 
among  the  Pelasgi,  and  by  their  active  and  aggres- 
sive qualities  becoming  dominant  in  public  atfairs. 
This  infusion  of  new  blood  would  seem  to  have 
given  rise  to  what,  properly  speaking,  may  be 
called  the  Greek  people,  which  thus  arose  from 
the  mingling  of  dili'erent  tribes  on  Grecian  soil. 
To  this  admixture  are  to  be  ascribed  the  differ- 
ences which  subsist  between  the  Greek  and  the 
Latin  tongue,  and  the  wide  divergence  of  the 
Greek  from  that  earlier  speech,  the  foundation 
of  both,  of  which  the  Sanskrit  is  believed  to  be 
the  nearest  representative.  The  Greek  would  ap- 
pear to  be  a  composite  language.  In  later  times, 
fixed  by  custom  or  prides,  it  became  intolerant  of 
foreign  words.  This  was  a  departure  from  the 
principle  on  which  it  was  formed  ;  —  to  say  other- 
wise is  to  beg  the  question  against  both  evidence 
and  probability. 

Although  it  is  impossible  to  trace  the  develop- 
ment of  the  Greek  tongue,  it  must  be  assumed 
that  in  its  inception  and  growth  it  was  governed 
by  universal  laws.  From  a  rude  state  it  was  car- 
ried forAvard  to  a  more  perfect  condition  by  cen- 
turies of  tasteful  culture,  and,  during  all  that  long 
probation,  the  Greeks,  as  other  aspuing  people 


ACQUIRED   WEALTH. 


85 


■ft 


have  done,  profited  by  external  and  available 
means  of  improvement.  As  the  cultivation  and 
refinement  of  a  people  ma}'  be  known  by  its  lan- 
guage, laws,  and  works  of  art,  it  may  be  worth 
noting  that  the  early  memorials  of  the  Greek 
race,  as  lately  brought  to  light  by  the  researches 
of  Schliemann  and  others,  show  a  primitive,  al- 
most barbarous,  condition  of  the  arts,  which  it 
is  fair  to  suppose  was  accompanied  by  a  similar 
condition  of  their  speech.  It  is  evident  that  the 
growth  from  the  rude  conception  and  clumsy  ex- 
ecution of  early  days  to  the  exquisite  grace,  sym- 
metry, and  freedom  of  later  Greek  art  must  have 
consumed  centuries,  —  time  for  perfecting  and 
unifying  the  language,  that  most  enduring  token 
of  their  civilization. 

Mr.  Choate  had  intended  to  write  a  history  of 
Greece,  and  to  that  end  his  special  studies  were 
for  a  time  directed.  But,  constrained  by  profes- 
sional and  other  duties,  he  abandoned  that  design. 
How  reluctantly  he  did  so  may  be  inferred  from 
the  fascination  which  afterwards  held  him  to  the 
study  of  the  Greek  genius  and  character.  In  his 
Journal  he  makes  significant  suggestions  as  to  the 
origin  and  progress  of  that  people,  but  he  does 
not  seem  to  think  that  they  had  rejected  foreign 
aid  until  their  language  had  risen  to  a  higher  de- 
gree  of  perfection  than  that  of  any  other  nation. 


i  \^ 


m 


■i* 


.•    ! 


■i| 


■ti 


Wl!! 


i'iii 


i 


ii' 


lii  i  ! 


fjii 


86 


MEMORIES  OF  nUFUS   CIIOATE. 


TIio  English  -  speaking  people  have  not  yet 
reached  such  supreiiiaey.  Their  only  iiope  of  ever 
reaciiing  it  has  been  inspired  by  the  use  that  could 
be  made  of  wealth  derived  from  alien  sources. 
They  have  borrowed  from  almost  every  other  peo- 
ple. The  work  of  verbal  adoption  might  have 
been  easy,  if,  as  has  been  said,  the  Anglo-Saxon 
tongue  had  had  a  craving  appetite,  had  been  ra- 
pacious of  words.  But  it  required  many  years  of 
preparatory  training  to  create  that  appetite.  The 
inlluence  came  from  without  rather  than  from 
within.  Indeed,  the  natural  characteristics  of  the 
early  people  of  Britain  were  not  favoral)le  to  an 
improvement  of  their  accustomed  speech.  The 
Saxons  had  no  conceptions  of  beauty  or  grace,  of 
harmony  in  thought  or  in  expression ;  and,  when 
they  could  make  their  wants  and  wishes  known, 
had  little  aptitude  to  find  and  use  other  and  bet- 
ter words.  As  an  offshoot  of  the  Teutonic  lan- 
guage, the  Saxon  dialect  inherited  the  rough, 
hard,  inflexible  qualities  of  the  parent  stock. 

Need  we  wonder  that  in  working  upon  such 
materials,  in  infusing  life,  variety,  and  refinement 
into  a  semi-barbarous  tongue,  it  was  necessary  to 
sift  out  and  cast  away  many  rugged  and  fruitless 
forms  of  speech,  and  to  weave  in  words  more 
melodious  and  articulate  ?  Would  it  have  been 
well   if  all   the   uncouth   terms  that  came  from 


UXTVEnSALITY  OF  LATIN. 


87 


Saxon  lips  liad   boon    rotninod  ?     Wlint  if  wonls 
exi)rossive  of  our  (iiKM'  feelings  nnd   aspirations,  of 


our  sense  of  i^raco.  hcautv.  and  liarnionv —  words 
of  progress,  rernuMncnt.  and  civilization  —  had  not 
Ijeen  borrowed  I  Those  who  regret  that  wo  are 
largely  indebted  to  the  Greek,  Latin,  and  French 
must  be  conscious  tiiat  the  improvement  of  our 
language  has  kept  pace  with  the  growing  intelli- 
gence of  the  people,  and  that  attempts  to  (pialify 
or  dissolve  that  relation  would  be  unwise  and 
fruitless. 

The  Latin,  spoken  of  as  a  dead  language,  sur- 
vives in  the  s})eech  of  many  nations,  with  whom 
we  and  our  mother-country  have  intimate  com- 
mercial relations  in  the  Old  and  in  the  New 
World.  It  has  been  justly  said  that  in  his  travels 
the  Latin  scholar  would  find  few  cities,  however 
strange  and  remote,  where  he  could  not  make 
himself  understood  by  some  of  the  inhabitants. 
The  variety  and  the  fertility  of  the  Latin  in  form- 
ing compounds  are  important,  as  this  quality  the 
words  retain  when  brought  into  other  lanixuau-es. 
An  idea  of  this  maybe  formed  by  counting  the  de- 
rivatives from  a  few  Latin  v>'ords.  Thus,  the  terms 
derived  from  the  verb  nascor,  in  various  forms, 
are  17  in  number  ;  from  vcrto  22,  from  tenco  23, 
tendo  29,  ccdo  21,  duco  20,  curro  18,  speelo  19, 
video  14,  lego  22,  mitto  22,  ven'io  17,  rego  15,  from 


m\ 


I     ■! 


lit       I 


t  r. . 
;■  i  ■ 


i:il 


iil.i 


1 


88 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


caj)io  more  tlum  27,  and  from  sumo,  which  has 
nearly  tlie  same  nioan'mg,  U  more:  —  10  roots 
yielding  285  distinct  terni.s  by  tlio  n.sc  of  prefixes 
and  sndixes.  The  aid  to  co[)iousnes.s  of  exi)res- 
sion  thus  afforded  is  self-evident,  and  justifies  Mr. 
Choate  and  all  others  who  have  the  taste,  time, 
and  opportunity  for  the  study  of  that  language. 

But  the  Saxon  tongue,  not  thus  fruitful,  never 
had,  and  of  itself  never  could  have  had,  Avidely 
extended  life  and  relations.  Had  it  wholly  sur- 
vived, working  out  its  destiny  in  exclusive  use,  it 
would  have  made  England  as  insular  as  could  the 
sea  itself. 

AVhen  Macaulay  was  in  the  public  service  in 
India,  he  luul  occasion  to  consider  what  system  of 
national  education  should  be  adopted.  Mr.  Tre- 
velyan,  in  his  life  of  Macaulay,  gives  the  particu- 
lars. The  Committee  of  Public  Instruction,  com- 
posed of  ten  able  men,  were  divided  in  opinion, 
and  for  some  time  "All  educational  action  had 
been  at  a  stand."  "  Half  of  the  members  were 
for  maintaining  and  extending  the  old  scheme  of 
encouraging  oriental  learning  by  stipends  paid 
to  students  in  Sanskrit,  Persian,  and  Arabic,  and 
by  liberal  grants  for  the  publication  of  works  in 
those  languages.  The  other  half  were  in  favor  of 
teaching:  the  elements  of  knowledn-e  in  the  vernac- 
ular  tongues,  and  the  higher  branches  in  English." 


i:.\GLisif  ran  natiosal  kducatwx. 


89 


The  advocates  of  both  sjstoins  wore  heard  before 
the  ISupreine  Council,  of  ^^hi('ll  Macaulay  was  a 
member.  In  duo  time  he  hiid  his  opinion  before 
the  Council,  and  urged  that  the  people  should  be 
tauL!:ht  in  the  Knuiish  lani:iia<i:e.  Anionic  other 
things,  he  said,  *'  Whoever  knows  that  language 
has  ready  access  to  all  the  vast  intellectual  wealth 
^vhicll  all  the  wisest  nations  of  the  earth  have 
created  and  hoarded  in  the  course  of  ninety  gen- 
erations." '•  JIad  our  ancestors  acted  as  the  Com- 
mittee of  Public  Instruction  has  hitherto  acted  ; 
had  they  neglected  the  language  of  Cicero  and 
Tacitus ;  had  they  confined  their  attention  to  the 
old  dialects  of  our  own  island  ;  had  they  printed 
nothing  and  taught  nothing  at  the  universities 
but  chronicles  m  Anglo-Saxon  and  romances  in 
Norman-French,  would  England  have  been  what 
she  now  is?  What  the  Greek  and  Latin  were  to 
the  contemporaries  of  More  and  Ascham,  our 
tongue  is  to  the  people  of  India."  His  views 
prevailed.  While  in  India,  Macaulay,  in  a  letter 
to  his  father,  said,  ''  Our  English  schools  are 
flourishing  wonderfully.  We  find  it  dillicult  — 
indeed,  in  some  places,  impossible  —  to  provide 
instruction  for  all  who  want  it.  At  the  single 
town  of  Ilooghly,  fourteen  hundred  boys  are 
learning  English.  Tl^e  effect  of  this  education 
on  the  Hindoos  is  prodigious.     No  Hindoo  who 


;   I 


:t 


I 

if 


mi 


90 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CUOATE. 


has  received  an  English  education  ever  remains 
sincerely  attached  to  his  religion." 

It  was  fortunate  for  England  and  for  the  people 
of  India  tlfat  Macaulay  could  thus  secure  the  adop- 
tion of  that  system  of  education.  It  was  a  more 
important  service  than  was  the  preparation  of  his 
Code,  in  which  Macaulay  took  great  pride;  more 
important,  indeed,  than  all  his  other  work  com- 
bined. 

To  include  the  study  of  Greek  and  Latin  in  that 
scheme  of  national  education  would  have  been 
premature  and  unwise,  yet  even  that  would  have 
been  more  wise,  as  tending  to  make  an  alliance 
between  the  English  and  the  Indian  mind  possible, 
than  would  have  been  the  study  of  the  Sanskrit, 
the  Persian,  and  the  Araljic.  Mr.  Macaulay  knew 
that  the  time  might  never  come  when  those  dusky 
students  of  the  East  would  wish  to  study  Cicero 
and  Tacitus  in  the  orii2:inal,  and  that  it  would  re- 
quire  the  culture  of  English  in  those  schools  for 
centuries  before  such  a  question  could  arise. 

It  is  to  be  confessed  that  even  with  us  the  study 
of  the  ancient  lano:ua<2:os  should  be  recommended 
with  reserve  and  discrimination,  not  simply  be- 
cause the  intellectual  wealth  mentioned  by  Macau- 
lay is  before  us  in  translations,  ministering  to  a 
great  degree  of  culture,  but  because,  with  many 
students,  such  a  study  would  be  a  sacriiice  of  time 


ADVICE  AS   TO   THE   CLASSICS. 


91 


and  strenixtli.     Even  some  minds  of  crreat  power 


have   sul't'ered  under  such  studie; 


It 


wou 


Id  1 


30 


hard  to  find  stronger  expression>'  of  detestation 
than  Byron  used  with  reference  to  Horace,  or  than 
Gray,  as  noticed  hy  Moore,  ai)phed  to  the  enforced 
duty  of  reading  Virgil.  Lamartine,  speaking  of 
his  choice  of  authors,  says,  "  Among  the  poets  the 
ones  that  I  preferred  were  not  the  ancients,  whose 
classic  pages  h.ad  too  early  been  bedewed  with  my 
sweat  and  tears."  But  we  need  not  seek  for  ex- 
amples. It  is  obviously  unjust,  it  is  bad  economy, 
to  prescril)e  such  tasks  for  a  student  without  re- 
gard to  his  taste,  or  to  the  course  of  life  he  is  to 
pursue.  Whatever  his  calling  is  to  be,  he  nmst, 
study  his  own  language  closely,  critically,  pro- 
foundly, and  be  conversant  with  the  best  authors 
in  it.  Especially  must  he  study  the  Bible  daily, 
and  cultivate  a  love  for  its  words  and  style.  lie 
may  thus  become  a  good  English  scholar.  He 
must  master  many  sul)jects  of  practical  importance 
also,  and  in  the  history,  life,  and  contentions  of 
the  world  be  well  informed.  In  all  this  he  will  be 
following  Mr.  Choate's  example. 

There  is  no  reason  to  fear  that  too  much  atten- 
tion will  be  given  to  classical  stud}'.  From  lack 
of  taste  and  inclination,  of  early  training  and 
agreeable  association,  or  by  reason  of  the  nature 
and  variety  of  studies  soliciting  his  choice  in  the 


iH  ,  I 


Hi 


■i:li!^ 


Mi 

i\ 

-    ;    i 

3 

'■■ 

I  i 

92 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


curricula  of  our  higher  schools,  the  student  is 
likely,  rather,  to  undervalue  the  claims  of  Latin 
and  Greek. 

But  he  who  looks  forward  to  a  life  of  literary 
leisure,  and  to  the  highest  intellectual  enjoyments 
attainable,  or  aspires  to  one  of  the  learned  pro- 
fessions, must  take  up  the  ancient  classics.  Such 
studies,  however,  are  to  be  vigorously  pursued. 
In  its  early  stages  the  work  is  difficult  and  full  of 
discouragements.  Only  after  much  devotion,  ^'er 
he  has  passed  the  region  of  toil  and  pain,  does  uie 
student  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  language,  and 
take  delight  in  the  literature.  Of  that  delight  he 
who  abandons  the  study  early  feels  and  knows 
nothing.  It  is  as  when  two  travelers  attempt  to 
climb  a  mountain.  In  the  morning  mist  they  see 
only  the  steep  and  stony  path  under  their  feet. 
After  much  effort,  one  becomes  weary  and  turns 
back.  The  other  pushes  on  and  reaches  the  top. 
The  rising  sun  illumines  the  summit,  chases  the 
shadows  from  the  valleys,  and  gradually  takes  pos- 
session of  the  earth.  lie  sits  bathed  in  a  flood 
of  glory  never  before  conceived,  never  to  be  for- 
gotten. 

We  are  reminded  of  the  advice,  ''  Soak  your 
mind  with  Cicero,"  —  advice  often  repeated  by 
Mr.  Choate,  and  illustrated  in  his  early  life. 

Classical  study  trains  the  memory,  the  inven- 


EFFECT  OF  CLASSICAL  STUDY. 


93 


tion,  the  imagination,  the  judgment,  taxing  them 
all  in  a  high  degree.  It  furnii^hes  thoughts,  which 
yield  themselves  up  to  patient  lal)or  and  ingenu- 
ity. But  before  they  can  be  expressed  in  trans- 
lation  they  must  be  grasped  and  subdued. 

The  student  thus  becomes  habituated  to  the 
thoughts  of  great  minds,  in  a  sense  makes  them 
his  own,  and  acquires  a  power  for  profound  inves- 
tiu'ations.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  ancient 
classics,  properly  pursued,  compel  the  highest  dis- 
cipline of  which  the  intellect  is  capable.  In  the 
seminaries  to  which  students  from  other  institu- 
tions are  admitted,  some  of  whom  have  had  classi- 
cal training,  while  others  have  not,  it  is  found, 
after  years  of  dilficult  study,  that  the  former  show 
a  marked  superiority.  This  has  been  proved  in 
the  German  schools,  and  the  statistics  are  given  in 
the  government  reports.  It  has  been  proved  in 
schools  of  our  own  also. 

A  critical  knowledge  of  Latin,  not  difficult  to 
attain,  is  the  best  preparation  for  the  study  of  the 
French  and  other  modern  languages.  E(|ui2)ped 
with  this,  the  acquisition  of  the  other  tongues  be- 
comes easy.  Latin  and  Greek  are  also  great  helps 
in  perfecting  a  knowledge  of  the  English  lan- 
guage. Nowhere  else  do  we  find  reflected  the 
exquisite  grace  and  beauty  of  the  Greek  mind ; 
and,  ■when  compared  with  the  works  of  the  great 


it 


M 

i.'; 


f 

!         i 

^  A' 
f: 
I 


V'l 


tx  ■•  ii 


i 


i!i 


m 


ir— 


!!!  •  m 


; 


94 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


Greek  and  Latin  authors,  those  of  the  French  and 
German  appear  crude  and  immature. 

It  would  be  kimentable  indeed  if  the  study  of 
the  ancient  classics  in  our  higher  schools  were  un- 
duly discouraged.  It  would,  moreover,  be  illogi- 
cal to  accept  as  proof  that  such  studies  are  no 
longer  necessary,  the  fact  that  good  English  has 
been  written  by  men  ignorant  of  Latin  and  Greek, 
men  to  whom  translations  of  classical  productions 
have  given  aid  not  easily  estimated.  Such  men 
may  not  owe  much  directly  to  the  classic  writers, 
but  who  can  compute  their  indirect  indebtedness, 
since  their  ideals  have  been  writers  whose  style 
has  been  formed  upon  the  great  models  furnished 
by  Athens  and  by  Rome  ? 

The  reader  may  have  noticed  that  some  authors, 
while  objecting  to  the  elements  of  Greek  and 
Latin  in  our  language  as  excessive,  habitually  use 
words  of  classic  derivation,  and  praise  Saxon  words 
for  their  brevity,  simplicity,  directness,  manly 
vigor,  and  moral  purity  as  if  these  words  had  been 
lost ;  and  claim  that  to  relieve  our  poverty  the  stu- 
dent should  go  back  to  the  days  of  Chaucer  to  find 
them.  Yet  these  and  other  like  words,  treasured 
up  with  a  wise  economy,  are  in  actual  use  and  have 
intimate  relations  with  the  affairs  of  every-day  life. 
But  they  are  wanting  in  scope  and  variety.  It  is  to 
be  observed  that  scholars  and  critics,  like  Professor 


1 1 .    .     ;| 


BORROWED   TERMS. 


95 


Hunt,  who  agree  with  Sharon  Turner  in  oxtolhng 
the  extent  and  power  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  lan- 
guage, have  not  told  us  how  to  find  therein  equiv- 
alents for  sueh  familiar  words  as  rc/ifjlon,  line, 
face,  relation,  conunon,  animal,  nature,  jja^/e,  and 
for  hundreds  of  other  words.  Nor  have  they 
shown  us  why,  now  that  we  have  such  words,  we 
should  not  use  them,  rather  than  search  in  ancient 
mounds  for  roots  from  which  we  might  possibly 
cultivate  their  equivalents. 

With  a  grateful  appreciation  of  our  language, 
we  believe  that  on  the  grounds  of  harmony,  of  ex- 
pressiveness, of  variety,  of  convenience,  the  bor- 
rowing of  terms  from  classic  tongues  was  wise ; 
and  that  English  reduced  to  Saxon,  if  such  a  de- 
cline were  possiljle,  would  not  be  a  gain  or  a  bless- 
mg,  but  an  nnspeakable  calamity.  Standing  as 
the  English  language  does  to-day,  with  its  wealth 
of  derived  words,  its  acquisition  is  made  easier  to 
millions  of  our  fellow-men,  and  its  usefulness  to 
ourselves  is  thereby  greatly  increased. 


i    :i 


■:  M 


■i  1 


m 

•if 


I 

"5  t 
'I 


\    ■ 


{S;    .; 


'  .*. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Study  of  Words.  —  The  Percentage  cf  Anglo-Saxon, 
Latin,  and  Greek  used  by  Mr.  Choate  and  other  Eminout 
Scholars.  —  The  Methods  of  Sharon  Turner  and  George  P. 
Marsh.  —  Tables  as  to  Derivatives. 

Mil.  Ciioate's  solicitiulo  as  to  the  choice  and 
use  of  words  was  very  great.  Professor  Parsons 
says,  "  With  all  his  variety  and  intensity  of  labor 
there  was  nothing;  he  cultivated  with  more  care 
than  words."  That  he  was  not  peculiar  in  this 
branch  of  study  appears  from  familiar  instances. 
Cicero  had  taught  that  the  orator's  style  must 
be  formed  by  the  choice  of  words  and  the  skill- 
ful arranuemcnt  of  them  in  sentences.  That  in- 
struction  has  been  repeated  by  great  teachers 
from  Quintilian  down.  Dr.  Johnson  and  Dean 
Swift  refer  to  a  perfect  style  as  proper  words 
in  proper  places.  When  Gibbon  wrote,  several 
times  over,  the  first  chapter  of  his  history,  and 
Brougham  the  close  of  his  speech  in  the  Queen's 
case,  they  were  striving  by  choice  words  to  im- 
prove the  style.  That  Byron  found  it  difficult 
to   satisfy  himself   is   shown   by  notes  to  an  ap- 


I 


f 


THE  STUDY  OF   WORDS. 


97 


proved  edition  of  his  poems.  Many  changes  were 
made.  In  one  instance  which  I  recall,  he  erased 
a  word  and  substituted  anoiher ;  then  rejected 
the  substitute  and  restored  the  original ;  still  in 
doubt,  he  wrote  below,  "  Ask  GilTord."  Emer- 
son regarded  Montaigne's  choice  with  favor,  as 
he  says,  "  Cut  these  words  and  they  would  bleed  ; 
they  are  vascular  and  alive."  Of  some  of  Mil- 
ton's lines,  Macaulay  says,  '•  Change  the  structure 
of  the  sentence,  substitute  one  synonym  for  an- 
other, and  the  whole  effect  is  destroved."  Pitt 
thought  verbal  study  important  when  he  went 
twice  through  Bailey's  Dictionary,  carefully  con- 
sidering every  word.  So  also  did  Choate  when 
he  formed  the  habit  of  reading  the  dictionary  by 
the  page,  and  when  he  said  to  a  student,  '•  You 
want  a  diction  whose  every  word  is  full  freighted 
with  suggestion  and  association,  with  beauty  and 
power." 

To  acquire  such  a  diction  was  a  work  calling 
for  intense  and  continuous  application.  But  to 
master  the  words  which  Mr.  Choate  needed  was  a 
preparatory  study.  The  question  as  to  their  best 
use  remained,  and  appealed  to  a  large  and  ripe 
experience.  Writers  and  speakers  differ  in  that 
use,  as  they  differ  in  culture  and  taste,  in  percep- 
tion and  judgment;  but  they  would  agree  that 
the  grace,  beauty,  and  power  of  the  words  used 


I, 


V 


W;  : 


m 


t 


■  til 


!         '1 


ill 


98 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


il)     ifei 


I'      P 

if 

itr 


depend  on  the  harmony  of  their  relations  to  each 
other  and  to  the  thoughts  expressed. 

Mr.  Choate  valued  highly  those  synonyms  which 
are  useful  in  denoting  distinctions,  however  slight, 
and  in  enabling  a  speaker  to  avoid  a  wearisome 
sameness  of  expression.  His  use  of  adjectives  is  a 
noticeable  feature  of  his  style.  They  were  chosen 
with  especial  reference  to  the  effect  desired,  and 
each  furnishes  a  new  outline.  Used  thus,  adjec- 
tives are  important  for  precision  and  definiteness. 
It  is  by  them  chiefly  (and  by  their  cognates,  the 
adverbs)  that  qualification,  so  necessary  to  exact 
statement,  can  be  attained.  Mr.  Choate  once  said 
to  a  friend  of  mine  that  the  value  of  adjectives 
could  be  learned  by  studying  botany.  On  taking 
up  this  study,  one  finds  that  the  descriptive  lan- 
guage in  it  is  largely  composed  of  adjectives  ;  and 
that  to  outline  each  tint,  form,  and  garniture  of 
leaf  and  flower  is  an  admirable  instance  of  what 
can  be  done  by  the  use  of  such  words. 

Mr.  Choate  was  in  full  communion  with  the 
spirit  of  our  language.  He  knew  how  strong,  yet 
how  flexible,  the  words  are  ;  he  knew  their  line- 
nge  and  their  history.  He  did  not  attempt  to  coin 
new  words,  or  to  reclaim  those  rejected  because 
violating  the  anaiogies  of  the  language,  or  to  re- 
vive those  that  hod  become  obsolete.  Nor  did  he, 
when  writing  or  speaking,  pause  or  turn  aside  to 


THE   USE  OF   WELL-ACCEPTED   WORDS.       99 

find  or  to  avoid  Saxon  words  or  words  of  foreign 
derivation.  In  a  conservative  spirit  he  accepted 
our  language  as  nourished  and  developed  to  its 
present  strength  and  maturity.  Believing  that 
its  wealth  is  as  precious  in  the  realms  of  thought 
as  coin  and  credit  in  the  world  of  commerce,  he 
sought  to  evolve  and  quicken  its  power  to  express 
with  grace  and  precision  every  shade  of  sentiment 
and  doctrine,  however  delicate  or  ahstruse. 

No  one  who  has  considered  the  nature  of  lan- 
guage, or  the  poverty  of  which  he  is  conscious 
wdien  some  of  his  emotions  cannot  be  described, 
and  yet  believes  that  the  development  of  lan- 
guage attends  the  growing  refinement  of  the  peo- 
ple, will  doubt  the  wisdom  that  guided  Mr.  Choate 
in  his  studies,  even  when  he  was  seeking  a  perfec- 
tion not  yet  attainaljle.  Much  has  been  said  in 
vague  and  general  terms  as  to  the  qualit}'-  and 
extent  of  his  vocabulary.  Some  not  unfriendly 
critics  have  thought  that  he  gave  an  undue  pref- 
erence to  words  of  foreign  derivation ;  and  that 
his  classic  studies  had  perverted  his  taste  and 
judgment  in  respect  to  our  strong,  homely,  and 
simple  native  words.  Such  suggestions  have  had 
weight  in  confirming  my  wish  to  ascertain  the  rel- 
ative proportions  of  native  and  foreign  words  used 
by  Mr.  Choate  and  by  some  other  distinguished 
scholars. 


^11 


Mt^ 


;, 


ii: 


ir 


III 


I  i  i  i 


:i 


J^ 


100 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


In  his  history,  Sharon  Turner  gave  some  atten- 
tion to  such  a  question  for  the  avowed  purpose  of 
proving  "  the  copiousness  and  power  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  language  ;  "  but  his  method,  though  sugges- 
tive, was  partial  and  inadecjuate.  lie  quoted  a 
few  lines  from  fourteen  authors,  and  marked  the 
Saxon  words,  —  marked  some  of  them  many  times. 
The  particulars  appear  in  the  table  at  the  end  of 
this  chapter. 

In  his  lectures  on  the  Eniirlish  language,  Mr. 
George  P.  Marsh  gave  the  subject  more  attention, 
but  his  collections  and  estimates  include  repeated 
words.  That  distinguished  philologist.  Dr.  Weisse, 
followed  a  different  method. 

As  the  more  weighty  words,  those  upon  which 
the  sense  of  an  author  largely  dej^ends,  are  of 
classic  derivation  and  not  often  repeated,  and  as 
some  of  the  small  words,  the  Saxon,  do  recur 
many  times  in  every  sentence,  it  is  obvious  that 
to  include  the  repeated  words  in  an  estimate  un- 
duly augments  the  percentage  that  should  be  as- 
signed to  the  Anglo-Saxon.  The  vocalnilary  of 
a  speaker  or  writer  cannot  thus  be  determined. 
When  told  that  Milton  used  8,000  words  and 
Shakespeare  15.000,  one  need  not  be  told  that  in 
these  estimates  repeated  words  are  not  counted. 

In  treating  of  Mr.  Choate's  vocabulary,  I  have 
caused  all  his  words  found  in  print,  found  by  dili- 


MR.   CIIOATE'S   VOCABULARY. 


101 


gent  srarcli,  to  l)c  urittoii  dcnvii,  and  classified  ac- 
cording to  their  derivation,  and  the  percentage  of 
the  whole  "which  each  class  furnishes  ascertained. 
But  dates,  proper  names,  and  ((notations  have 
been  omitted,  and  repeated  words  avoidctl ;  the 
question  really  heing  as  to  his  total  vocabulary, 
and  not  as  to  the  frequency  with  which  any  class 
of  words  reappears  in  his  writings.  I  lind  that 
Mr.  Choate  used  1  l,(»l)o  unrepeated  words.  Of 
these,  3.421  are  Teutonic;  7,223  ai-e  Latin;  "30 
are  Greek ;  123  arc  common  or  Indo-European  ; 
and  187  are  scattering.  The  percentage  of  the 
•whole  number  which  the  Teutonic  furnishes  is, 
therefore,  .2')3  ;  the  Latin,  .618;  the  Greek,  .002; 
the  Indo-European,  .011 ;  and  the  scattering,  .016. 
A  like  test  has  been  applied  to  twenty  other  au- 
thors, ten  American  and  ten  British  ;  —  the  unre- 
peated words  used  by  each  of  them  in  one  paper 
or  more,  on  some  subject  or  occasion  of  grave  im- 
portance, have  been  classified  and  counted.  That 
these  authors  dili'er  from  each  other  and  from  Mr. 
Choate  in  the  percentage  of  Anglo-Saxon  used 
may  be  ascribed  in  some  measure  to  the  varied 
nature  of  the  subjects  discussed  by  them,  and  to 
the  number  of  words  considered.  The  subject 
discussed  in  each  instance,  and  the  derivations  of 
the  words  used,  are  given  in  the  tables  at  the  close 
of  this  chapter.     These  authors,  I  am  persuaded, 


■i 


I 


;;! 


i 


iii 


102 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


will  1)0  regarded  as  fit  exponents  of  tlio  English 
language  at  its  best  estate.  It  is  evident  that,  if 
they  could  have  expressed  their  views  with  equal 
freedom,  fidelity,  precision,  and  force  in  Anglo- 
Saxon  and  had  done  so,  our  indc^pendence  of  the 
classic  elements  in  our  language  would  be  gen- 
erally confessed. 

My  purpose,  at  first,  was  merely  to  learn  the 
percentage  of  Anglo-Saxon  used  by  these  authors 
and  by  Mr.  Choate.  But,  on  further  consideration, 
it  seemed  proper  to  extend  the  incpiiry  to  words 
from  other  sources.  In  doing  this,  the  words 
seemed  naturally  to  fall  into  these  five  classes  :  — 

Fh'st.  The  Teutonic.  By  this  I  mean  princi- 
pally, and  almost  exclusively,  Anglo-Saxon.  But, 
in  all  the  writings  examined,  there  is  a  slight 
sprinkling  (1)  of  Norse,  or  Scandinavian,  words ; 
(2)  of  old,  middle,  or  modern  High  -  German 
words ;  and  (3)  of  Dutch  words.  These,  too  few 
in  number  to  justify  separate  classification,  and 
not  strictly  Anglo-Suxon  words,  though  near  of 
kin  to  them,  coiiiri  properly  be  classed  with  such, 
under  the  generic  heading  Teutonic,  and  so  have 
been. 

Secondly.  The  Latin ;  including,  of  course,  the 
words  coming  into  the  English  through  the 
French,  the  Italian,  the  Spanish,  and  the  Portu- 


guese. 


!,  { 


CLASSES  OF  DERIVATIVES. 


103 


Thirdly.    The  Greek. 

Fourllthj.  The  Indo-European.  This  class  em- 
braces words  which  belong  to  most  or  to  all  of  the 
seven  great  members  of  our  family  of  languages. 
Belonging  to  most  or  to  all,  they  could  not  be 
classed  with  any  one  of  them. 

Flffhlf/.  Scattering.  Of  the  words  of  this  class 
by  far  the  larger  part  are  purely  Celtic.  But  oc- 
casionally there  was  found  a  Hebrew  or  an  Arabic 
word,  one  distinctly  Russian,  or  Persian,  or  Indian, 
or  one  from  some  other  source,  and  a  separate 
classification  of  these  in  the  tables  was  not  called 
for. 

It  should  be  said,  further,  that  what  was  evi- 
dently the  most  essential  part  of  any  compound 
determined  the  classification  of  the  word.  Where 
there  were  prefixes  or  suffixes,  or  both,  the  rooi 
settled  the  class  to  which  the  word  was  assiij^ned. 
Where  the  parts  were  still  independent  words, 
that  part  modified  in  meaning  or  limited  in  scope 
by  the  other  part  or  the  other  parts  was  allowed 
to  determine  the  class.^ 

In  a  letter  from  the  late  George  P.  Marsh,  to  be 
found  in  another  part  of  this  work,  he  says  that 

^  The  classification  of  the  wordsi,  the  (lotcrniination  of  the  per- 
centages, and  the  preparation  of  the  tables  are,  with  little  of  my 
help,  the  work  of  my  learned  friend,  Brainerd  Kellofrg,  Professor 
of  English  Language  and  Literature  ia  the  Collegiate  and  Poly- 
technic Institute,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 


II 


'1.1 


104 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


■ ': 


i  -mm 


he  had  thought  Mr.  Choate's  vocabuJary  consisted 
of  more  words  than  I  have  given.  As  some  of  my 
readers  may  have  a  hke  impression,  it  is  proper  to 
speak  of  the  rigorous  excision  practiced  by  the 
Professor,  —  an  excision  by  which  great  niunbers 
of  words  standing  alphabetically  in  the  columns 
prepared  for  him  were  cut  out.  No  word  in  any 
one  author,  occurring  as  a  single  part  of  speech, 
was  counted  more  than  once,  though  used  often 
bv  him  in  the  same  form,  or  in  diifercnt  forms. 
As,  for  instance,  (jrow,  grows,  (jrew,  (jrowing, 
groicn,  found  many  times  in  the  same  author, 
were  regarded  as  one  word  ;  and  taller  or  tallest 
was  not  counted  if  tall  had  been  ;  nor  was  the 
plural  of  any  noun,  if  the  singular  had  been. 

Let  me,  however,  illustrate  a  seeming  exception 
to  this  guiding  ride  stated  and  exemplified  above. 
Is,  teas,  and  been  are  parts  of  one  verb.  But 
they  are  from  different  roots  ;  consequently,  when 
found  hi  an  author,  they  were  called  three  differ- 
ent words.  For  the  same  reason,  heifer  and  worse, 
comparatives  of  the  adjective  good  and  the  ad- 
verlj  hadly,  were  counted,  though  the  positives 
had  been.  So  were  the  forms,  thus  differently  de- 
rived, of  all  other  parts  of  speech. 

The  number  of  Mr.  Choate's  words  as  first  col- 
lected, 15.559,  was  thus  reduced  to  11,G93. 

With  these  explanations  of   the  principles  by 


COMPARA  TIVE  PERCENTA  GES. 


105 


which  the  learned  Professor  was  governed  in 
the  preparation  of  the  tables,  the  lessons  taught 
may  be  readily  understood. 

As  a  summary  of  the  less  obvious  teaching  of 
the  tables,  Professor  Kellogg  has  had  the  khidness, 
at  my  request,  to  write  what  follows.  He  says, 
'••  It  will  be  seen  by  a  glance  at  the  tables,  that 
eight  of  the  twentj^  authors  with  whom  Mr, 
Choate  is  compared  use  a  smaller  percentage  of 
Teutonic  words  than  he  does ;  that  two  use  the 
same  ;  that  the  ten  who  exceed  his  percentage  of 
Teutonic  exceed  it  about  as  much  as  the  others 
drop  below  it ;  and  that  these  relations  would  not 
be  essentially  disturbed  if  the  percentages  marked 
common  (Indo-European,  or  Aryan)  were  added  to 
the  Teutonic.  It  will  be  seen,  also,  that  thirteen 
of  these  twenty  authors  use  a  larger  percentage  of 
Latin  words  than  Mr.  Choate  does  ;  and  that  these 
thirteen  exceed  his  percentage  much  niore  than 
the  remaining  seven  fall  below  it.  If,  with  some, 
we  add  the  Greek  words  to  the  Latin,  and  call  the 
resulting  list  classical,  ten  of  the  twenty  would 
exceed  Mr.  Choate's  percentage  of  classical  words; 
one  would  have  the  same ;  and  the  remaining 
nine  would  fall  below  his  percentage  much  less 
than  the  ten  would  stand  above  it." 

Mr.  Choate's  vocabulary,  the  unrepeated  words, 
is  not  in  any  material  degree  disturbed   by  the 


11 


i  ■■     .< 


! 


i!ll 


V 


i 

t 

ii 

ill 

^....-* 

ii, 

mm 

m 

'I  ^.'  '„^ 


I 


Sj 


106 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


fact  that  many  of  his  speeches  and  arguments 
were  not  published  or  preserved.  He  used  in 
them,  no  doubt,  words  not  found  in  the  papers 
before  me,  but  the  number  of  unrepeated  ad- 
ditional words  would  be  much  less  than  might 
bo  supposed,  while  the  percentage  of  Anglo- 
Saxon,  of  Latin,  and  of  Greek,  would  be  substan- 
tially the  same. 


jU^, 


SOME  PARTICULARS  OF  SIIAROX  TURNER'S  WORKS. 


Authors. 

Number  of     ; 
Wunls  ciiusiil- 
ereil. 

Of  whic'li  arc 
Angl(j-?axou. 

1 

1 
iif  wliich  (An- 
i:lii-."-u.\nii)  are 
Ui-liftitiuU5. 

Kei'f'titionof 

Woiil.-i  fniiii 

other  juurces. 

Sliakesijeiuc  .     .     . 

81 

GS 

31 

- 

Milton 

89 

71 

23 

- 

Cowley 

76 

C8 

IG 

1 

Thonisou    .... 

78 

G-t 

22 

1 

AJdison     .... 

79 

64 

20 

2 

Speuser 

72 

58 

18 

6 

Locke    

95 

75 

23 

3 

Pope 

84 

56 

17* 

1 

Young  

96 

73 

18 

1 

Swift 

87 

i   i 

2G 

1 

Robertson  .... 

lU 

79 

33 

1 

Humo 

101 

63 

35 

2 

Gibbon 

80 

47 

23 

- 

Johnson     .... 

87 

GO 

23 

3 

1,219 

923 

333 

22 

■t  !! 


'  t     i 


\  ■  w 


108 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


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CHAPTER  VII. 

Style,  Variations  of.  —  Long  Sentences.  —  Tlio  ^lethodist 
Church  Case.  —  Habits  of  Revising  Speeches.  —  xV  Con- 
trast. —  The  Importance  of  Rhetorical  Decorations.  —  The 
Freedom  of  Discourse  necessary  to  an  Advocate.  —  Long 
Arguments. 

The  reader  who  believes,  with  Lord  Karnes, 
that  to  have  a  specific  style  is  to  be  poor  of 
speech,  will  appreciate  Mr.  Choate's  varied  meth- 
ods. As  a  speaker  he  was  copious,  reiterative, 
and  much  given  to  illustrations  useful  in  an  ar- 
gument ;  as  a  writer  he  was  more  simple  and 
severe. 

But,  however  widely  his  methods  differed,  the 
same  delicate  and  touching  sensibility,  the  same 
vivid  and  picturesque  beauty,  the  same  wealth  of 
thought  and  power  of  expression  appeared  in  what 
was  spoken  and  in  what  was  written.  In  neither 
was  his  brilliant  imagery  used  as  a  mere  embel- 
lishment ;  the  visions  of  beauty  in  his  mind  be- 
came articulate  without  effort ;  the  musical  flow 
and  rhythm  as  inimitable  as  the  melody  of  the 
murmuring  brook.  He  evidently  believed  that 
from  the  harmony  that  could  exist  between  a  sub- 


\ik 


LONG  SENTENCES. 


113 


ject  and  the  tone  of  its  discussion  might  arise  a 
sense  of  ideal  and  emotional  beauty,  pleasing  to 
the  mind;  that  a  brilliant  style  was  consistent  with 
directness  of  thought  and  simplicity  of  speech ; 
and  that  rhetorical  and  illustrative  imagery,  em- 
ployed with  taste  and  judgment,  —  pictures  to  the 
eye  and  to  the  mind,  —  might  add  to  the  spirit 
and  force  of  an  argument. 

Mr.  Clioate  wrote  with  great  freedom,  and  often 
spoke  with  vehemence  and  rapidity ;  the  words 
waiting  instantly  and  submissively  on  the  thoughts. 
When  the  subject  moved  him  strongly  and  was  to 
be  compressed  within  the  limits  of  a  single  dis- 
course, he  sometimes  rushed  through  one  of  those 
long  sentences  thought  to  be  peculiar  to  him. 
However  easy  it  may  have  been  for  him,  —  and 
it  appeared  to  be  easy,  —  the  work  in  its  nature 
was  unique  and  difficult.  To  one  not  having  a 
powerful  memory,  great  command  of  language, 
and  discrimination  in  the  use  of  words,  the  achieve- 
ment w^ould  have  been  impossible.  A  long  train 
of  thought  and  the  related  parts  of  the  discourse 
were  to  be  held  in  mind,  and  the  particulars  so  ad- 
justed as  to  be  in  harmony  with  each  other  and 
with  the  argument.  Mr.  Choate  thus  gave,  in 
compact  form,  extended  views  of  the  matter  in 
hand,  without  prolixity,  confusion,  or  ambiguity. 
The  longest  sentence  he  is  knowm  to  have  used  was 

8 


1 

14  5-f; 


f     • 


'ill 


■  I 


h' 


'>'(* 

.:l!'" 


'i!t 


i^i 


114 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


in  his  eulogy  of  Webster.  In  that  instance  and  in 
other  instances  of  the  kind,  he  was  heard  with 
such  unbounded  dehght  that  no  one  would  have 
thought  of  suggesting  the  common  objection  that 
long  sentences  tend  to  weary  and  perplex  the 
hearer  and  the  reader.  In  reading  those  sen- 
tences, as  in  reading  the  sovereign  examples  of 
Demosthenes,  Cicero,  and  Milton,  the  student  has 
a  vivid  conception  of  the  argument. 

In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Brazer,  referring  to  a  work 
on  Logic,  Mr.  Webster  accepts  what  is  said  of 
"  argumentative  repetition,"  and  of  "  the  effect 
of  particularization,"  and  says,  "  The  skillful,  and 
apparently  natural,  enumeration  of  particulars  is 
certainly,  in  its  proper  place,  one  of  the  best 
modes  of  producing  impressions.  All  the  stand- 
ard works  are  full  of  instances  of  this  sort  of 
composition."  In  closing  his  letter,  Mr.  Webster 
adds,  " '  After  all,'  says  Cobbett,  '  he  is  a  man  of 
talent  that  can  make  things  move  ; '  and  after 
all,  say  I,  he  is  an  orator  that  can  make  me 
think  as  he  thinks,  and  feel  as  he  feels." 

Was  not  Mr.  Choate  such  an  orator  ?  From  one 
of  my  correspondents  I  cite  a  few  words  relating 
to  an  occasion  when  Choate  was  speaking  upon  a 
familiar  topic,  "As  Choate  approached  the  climax, 
Webster's  emotions  became  uncontrollable ;  the 
great  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  the  great  frame 


INFLUENCE   OF  THE  PATIIETTC. 


115 


shook ;  he  bowed  his  head  to  conceal  his  face  in 
his  hat,  and  I  ahnost  seemed  to  hear  him  sob." 
Was  not  Mr.  Choate's  a  style  that  could  make 
Webster  think  as  he  thought,  and  feel  as  he  felt  ? 
When,  in  listening  to  any  other  orator,  speaking 
in  whatever  style,  was  Webster  so  moved  ?  Those 
tears,  that  emotion,  prove  and  illustrate  his  judg- 
ment, and  blot  out  forever  some  of  the  loose  and 
casual  chat  about  Choate's  style  which  Mr.  Harvey 
reports  in  his  '*  Reminiscences."  If  Webster  ever 
did  find  fault  with  Choate's  style,  it  would  be  in- 
teresting to  know  in  what  mood  he  was.  If  he 
talked  of  Choate's  pile  of  flowers,  and  praised  his 
logic  rather  than  his  style,  Webster  must  have 
forgotten  the  care  and  patience  with  which  he  had 
cultivated  his  own  flowers  of  speech,  and  the  in- 
terest which  they  gave  to  some  of  his  discourses. 
But  he  really  differed  from  Choate,  in  the  use  of 
such  forms  of  expression,  less  than  may  be  com- 
monly supposed.  In  his  popular  addresses,  Web- 
ster employed  them  more  freely  than  when  speak- 
ing to  legislative  bodies  or  in  the  courts.  He  used 
them,  however,  in  each  kind  of  seivij.?,  when 
moved  by  passion,  or  when  anxious  to  awaken  or 
quicken  the  attention  of  his  hearers.  Yet,  in  re- 
vising his  speeches  for  publication,  he  plucked 
away  the  flowers  whose  bloom  and  fragrance  then 
pleased  him  less  than  when  they  had  been  adopted. 


n 


m 
% 


i 
•i- 

i  ■'; 


l.l\ 


■^% 


m 


!i.' 


'J! 


WTr> 


116 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


But  Mr.  Choate's  flowers  of  speech,  of  spontaneous 
growth  and  use,  were  left  with  his  other  words,  in 
their  original  relations. 

In  his  essay,  introductory  to  his  selections  from 
Mr.  Webster's  speeches,  Mr.  Whipple  takes  special 
and  favorable  notice  of  several  figurative  expres- 
sions which  had  been  retained.  They  have  great 
merit.  I  refer  to  one  of  them,  illustrative  some- 
what of  the  dehberation  with  which  such  embel- 
lishments were  sought.  Mr.  Whipple  gives  the 
history.  When  Webster  was  once  on  the  heights 
of  Quebec,  at  an  early  hour  of  a  summer  morning, 
he  heard  the  drum-beat  calling  the  garrisor 
duty.  It  flashed  upon  him  that  England's  mu^.. 
ing  drum  would  go  on  beating  elsewhere  to  the 
hour  when  it  would  again  sound  in  Quebec.  In 
his  speech  in  the  Senate,  on  the  "  Presidential  Pro- 
test," after  noticing  the  fact  that  our  Revolution- 
ary fathers  went  to  war  in  respect  to  mere  taxa- 
tion, Webster  said,  "  On  this  question  of  principle, 
while  actual  suffering  was  yet  afar  off,  they  raised 
their  flag  against  a  power,  to  which,  for  the"  pur- 
pose of  foreign  conquest  and  subjugation,  Rome, 
in  the  height  of  her  glory,  is  not  to  be  compared  ; 
a  power  which  has  dotted  over  the  surface  of  the 
whole  globe  with  her  possessions  and  military 
posts;  whose  morning  drum-beat,  following  the 
sun,  and  keeping  company  wdth  the  hours,  circles 


I) 


THE  REVISIOX  OF  ARGUMENTS. 


117 


the  earth  witli  one  continuous  and  unbroken  f^train 
of  the  martial  airs  of  En<^"lan(l." 

As  indicating  the  attention  which  that  rlietor- 
ical  ilhistration  excited,  Mr.  Wlii[)i)le  notices  the 
report  that,  at  the  conclusion  ol'  this  speech,  John 
Sergeant  of  Philadelphia  came  up  to  the  orator, 
and  eagerly  asked,  "  Where,  Wel)ster,  did  you  get 
that  idea  of  the  morning  drum-beat  ?  " 

Mr.  "Webster  evidently  believed  that  the  idea  of 
an  unbroken  circle  of  power,  extending  round  the 
globe,  originated  with  him  and  at  Quebec.  Mr. 
Whipple,  however,  refers  to  a  passage  in  Goethe's 
*'  Faust"  for  the  same  idea,  but  says  that  Webster 
never  read  "  Faust."  He  could  also  have  referred 
to  the  ''Odyssey,"  which  We))ster  had  read  in  the 
original  and  as  translated,  for  a  passage  equally 
suggestive :  — 

"  Hear  nic,  0  Xi'ptune  !  thou  whoso  arms  are  hurled 
From  shore  to  shore  and  gird  the  solid  world." 

The  idea  was  old.  Mr.  Webster  gave  it  a  new 
form  and  office. 

In  respect  to  the  final  improvement  of  their 
speeches,  the  difference  between  the  habits  of 
Webster  and  those  of  Choate  is  not  less  striking 
and  significant.  As  a  consequence,  it  may  be  said 
that  he  who  would  know  iliese  orators  from  their 
printed  pages  should  remc  iber  that  while  one  of 
them  appears  as  in  state-dress,  every  part  care- 


^iM 


imm 


iai. 


I   . 


t'1" 


'f  <  i 


I ,; 


miiu'Misiiuaaassi.'. 


118 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


!     f      i 


W^ 


fully  arranged,  the  other  appears  in  the  unstudied 
dress  of  e very-day  life. 

An  interesting  statement,  by  the  Hon.  Enoch 
L.  Fancher,  as  to  Mr.  Choate's  relation  to  the 
Methodist  Church  case,  appears  in  another  part 
of  this  work.  I  am  indebted  to  Judge  Fancher 
for  a  copy  of  the  report  of  that  case  which  con- 
tains the  arguments  of  counsel.  I  turn  the  pages 
of  the  book  with  conllicting  emotions,  —  pleasure, 
in  recalling  what  interested  and  impressed  me 
many  years  ago ;  sadness,  in  remembering  what 
the  country  and  the  profession  have  since  lost. 
On  that  trial,  Judges  Nelson  and  Betts  presided, 
and  liufus  Choate,  Daniel  Lord,  George  Wood, 
and  Iieverdy  Johnson  were  of  counsel,  not  one  of 
whom  is  now  living'. 

The  reader  will  learn,  from  Judge  Fancher's 
paper,  that  he  sought  in  vain  to  have  Mr.  Choate 
revise  his  argument  for  publication.  The  refusal 
was  in  keeping  with  Mr.  Choate's  habit.  The 
work  in  hand  having  been  performed,  he  turned 
to  other  labors  or  to  his  favorite  studies,  free  from 
the  ambition  of  appearing  well  in  print.  Ho  al- 
ways sought  to  master  his  subject  before  under- 
taking its  discussion.  In  this  he  was  unsparing. 
But,  in  speaking,  he  could  use  appropriate  terms, 
and  be  content  to  leave  his  words  as  they  fell 
from  his  lips.     It  would,  I  think,  be  admitted  by 


m 


1, 


A   CONTRAST. 


119 


those  \vlio  have  often  hoard  him  and  have  studied 
hiin  cloxely,  that,  owing  to  the  character  and  ex- 
tent of  his  studies  and  the  inliuence  of  his  natural 
gifts,  —  memory,  taste,  judgment.  —  the  words  that 
would  best  express  and  illustrate  his  views  were 
present  to  him  as  they  were  wanted,  even  when 
he  was  in  the  free  and  rapid  current  of  discourse. 
Professor  Parsons  was  sensible  of  this  when  he 
said  that  Choate  '•  was  never  at  a  loss  for  ihe 
word." 

In  contrast  with  such  command  of  words  and 
such  indisposition  to  revise  what  had  been  said  on 
a  trial  or  in  an  argument,  the  reader  will  (ind  in 
Mr.  Whipple's  essay,  to  which  I  have  referred,  a 
circumstantial  account  of  the  manner  in  which,  by 
changing  words,  definitions,  and  illustrations,  Mr. 
Webster  "  tormented  reporters,  proof-readers,  and 
the  printers  who  had  the  misfortune  to  be  en- 
gaged in  putting  one  of  his  performances  into 
type,  not  because  this  or  that  word  was  or  was 
not  Saxon  or  Latin,  but  because  it  was  inadequate 
to  convey  perfectly  his  meaning." 

Mr.  Whipple  mentions,  also,  jMr.  Welister's  re- 
vision of  discourses  whicli  had  been  delH^erately 
prepared.  Thus  he  says,  "  On  the  morning  after 
he  had  delivered  his  J^'vilogy  on  Adams  and  Jefl'er- 
son,  he  entered  his  office  with  the  manuscript  in 
his  hand,  and  threw  it  down  on  the  desk  of  a 


'if   t 


i  'I 


'  i  ■  I 


,i    ; 


;l  '4 


!!;' 


li 


>  ii 


•II 


(!! 


>  1 


i   I  ; 

M 


m 


120 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


I 


ll' 

mi 

m 

'M  ' 

ffi-' 

'    11  ' 

m 

„.i- 

wm\^ 

i  i' 

ml 

•a 

m      ^'1 

p   ::f 

r    '■ 

ll:'; 

young  student  at  Law,  whom  he  greatly  esteemed, 
with  the  request,  '  There,  Tom,  please  take  that 
discourse  and  weed  out  all  the  Latin  words.' " 

The  puhlicatiou,  in  pamphlet  form,  of  Mr.  Web- 
ster's Plymouth  oration  of  1820  was  delayed  for 
about  a  year.  Mr.  Whipple  says,  "  It  is  probable 
that  the  Plymouth  oration,  as  we  i  ssess  it  in 
print,  is  a  better  oration,  in  respect  to  composi- 
tion, than  that  whicli  was  heard  by  the  applaud- 
ing crowd  before  which  it  was  originally  deliv- 
ered." 

Mr.  Webster's  taste  was  so  exacting  and  severe 
that  he  was  not  easily  satisfied  with  his  own  work. 
In  that  he  was  fortunate.  He  was  fortunate  also 
in  his  close  communion  with  the  great  masters  of 
speech.  In  the  Eulogy,  Mr.  Choate  refers  to  sev- 
eral writers  from  whom  Mr.  Webster  had  souiirht 
inspiration,  and  says,  "  To  the  study  and  compari- 
son, but  not  to  the  copying,  of  authors  such  as 
these  ;  to  habits  of  writing  and  speaking  and  con- 
versing on  the  capital  theory  of  always  doing 
his  best ;  —  thus,  somewhat,  I  think,  was  acquired 
that  remarkable  production,  '  the  last  work  of 
combined  study  and  genius,'  his  rich,  clear,  cor- 
rect, harmonious,  and  weighty  style  of  prose." 

Mr.  Richard  Grant  White  has  like  views  upon 
such  an  acquisition.  After  suggesting  that  style 
cannot  be  taught,  and  that  the  student  will  derive 


W    ^ 


CONVERSATION  WITH  MACKINTOSH.        121 

little  benefit  from  mere  rhetoric,  he  says,  "  It  is 
general  culture  —  above  all,  it  is  the  constant  sub- 
mission of  a  teachable,  apprehensive  niincl  to  the 
influence  of  minds  of  the  highest  class,  in  daily 
life  and  in  books,  that  bring  out  upon  language 
its  daintiest  Ijloom  and  its  richest  fruitage." 

In  using  picturesque  figures  of  speech  and  ar- 
gumentative illustratioi:-!,  Mr.  WeJjster  and  Mr. 
Choate  were  following  the  examples  of  great  mas- 
ters of  speech  from  Cicero  down  to  their  own 
times.  But  some  critics,  not  able  to  conform  to 
these  standards,  commend  plainness  of  style,  and 
object  to  rhetorical  embellishments.  Those  who 
condenni  what  they  cannot  emulate  deserve  little 
attention.  But  it  would  seem  that  views  occasion- 
ally ascribed  to  distinguished  authors  may  have 
given  such  critics  some  encouragement.  I  m»ke 
special  mention  of  one  instance. 

Sir  James  Mackintosh  is  reported  to  have  said, 
in  a  conversation  with  Alexander  II.  Everett, 
"  Eloquence  is  the  power  of  gaining  your  purpose 
by  words.  All  the  labored  definitions  of  it  to  be 
found  in  the  diit'erent  rhetorical  works  amount  in 
substance  to  this.  It  does  not,  tlierefore,  require 
or  admit  the  strained  and  false  ornaments  tliat 
are  taken  for  it  by  some.  I  hate  those  artificial 
flowers  without  fragrance  or  fitness.  Nol)ody  ever 
succeeded  in  this  way  but  Burke.     Fox  used  to 


i 


.1     'A 


ft 


iillill 


.  j: 


\] 


m 


V\ 


m 

'ill     ;( 


11 'If  p  Si! 


122 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


say,  '  I  cannot  bear  this  thing  in  anybody  but 
Burke,  and  he  cannot  help  it,  it  is  his  natural 
manner.'  Mr.  Wilberlorce's  voice  is  beautiful ; 
his  manner  mild  and  perfectly  natural.  He  has 
no  artificial  ornament,  but  an  easy,  natural  image 
occasionally  springs  up  in  the  mind  that  pleases 
very  much."  ^ 

In  some  respects,  the  contrast  between  Wilber- 
force  and  Burke  was  very  great.  Yet  there  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  images  sprang  uf)  in  the 
mind  of  one  of  them  more  naturally  than  in  the 
mind  of  the  other.  Mackintosh  cites  Fox  with  ap- 
probation, and  could  do  so  properly,  as  Fox  knew 
Burke  by  heart.  But  when  Fox,  speaking  of  the 
abundant  and  gorgeous  imagery  of  Burke,  says 
that  he  could  not  help  it,  it  was  his  natural  man- 
ner, he  recognizes  Burke's  genius,  and,  in  effect, 
denies  that  he  emploj-ed  strained  and  false  orna- 
ments or  artificial  flowers. 

In  his  definition  of  eloquence.  Mackintosh  could 
have  said  that  the  speaker  who  seeks  to  gain  his 
purpose  by  words  must  be  true  to  his  nature,  and 
that  to  check  or  to  stimulate  his  powers  by  limit- 
ing himself  to  the  use  of  a  plain  style,  or  by  striv- 
ing after  ornamentation,  would  betray  great  weak- 
ness. How  far  he  would  have  tolerated  Choate's 
and  Webster's  flowers  of  speech  it  would  be  haz- 

*  North  American  Review,  1832. 


I 

1 1^- 


It  CLE  FOR    THE  FOUEXSIC  SPEAKER.       123 

ardous  to  surmi.se.  But  lie  could  not  think  it 
more  feasible  or  just  to  apply  a  law  of  repression 
to  the  luxurious  diction  of  a  man  of  genius  than  it 
would  be  to  add  "  lead  and  ballast  to  the  under- 
standing "  to  bring  it  down  to  the  level  of  connnon 
minds.  Either  course  would  be  as  reasonable  as 
to  clip  the  wings  of  eagles,  formed  by  nature  to 
cleave  the  upper  air.  It  is  obvious  that  he  who 
would  l)y  words  secure  the  assent  of  others  must 
be  allowed  to  speak  as  the  spirit  moves  him,  with 
no  other  sense  of  restraint  than  his  culture,  taste, 
and  judgment,  the  character  of  his  hearers,  and 
the  nature  of  his  subject  may  impose.  Such  free- 
dom is  most  essential  to  the  advocate. 

It  has  been  suggested  as  the  rule  for  the  foren- 
sic speaker  that  he  should  pass  over  inferior  mat- 
ters, and  concentrate  his  efforts  upon  the  more 
material  points  in  a  case  ;  whereas,  it  was  charac- 
teristic of  Mr.  Clioate  that  he  did,  in  some  sense, 
just  the  opposite.  It  is  to  be  rememljered,  how- 
ever, that  with  great  freedom  of  suggestion,  of 
illustration,  of  argument,  his  discourse  was  tem- 
pered by  a  keen  and  steady  watchfulness  of  the 
effect  he  was  producing.  He  peered,  as  it  were, 
into  the  very  souls  of  the  jury  to  read  the  stage 
of  conviction  to  which  they  had  been  brought. 
He  knew  that  the  less  important  points  of  a  case 
may  give   the  jury  trouble,  may  even   prevent 


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124 


MEMORIES   OF  IIUFUS  CIIOATE. 


their  agreeing  upon  a  verdict.  Then,  too,  mat- 
ters which,  as  first  considered,  ajopear  to  be  of 
little  moment,  may  in  combination,  or  in  their  re- 
lation to  unexpected  developments  on  a  trial,  be- 
come important.  It  would,  indeed,  be  interesting 
to  know^  by  what  prevision,  in  cases  like  those  of 
Tirrell,  where  a*  life  was  at  stake,  and  of  Dalton, 
where  a  woman's  honor  was  in  peril,  counsel  could 
sif^  out  what  might  be  passed  over  in  silence  as 
immaterial. 

It  has  been  sui2:fi:ested,  also,  that  Mr.  Choate's 
arguments  before  juries  were  long,  with  the  im- 
plication that  they  were  too  long.  The  objection 
might  be  reasonable  if  it  had  been  observed  that 
in  any  case  he  did  not  keep  the  attention  of  the 
jury  to  the  end  of  the  discussion.  We  can  recall 
no  instance  of  such  failure.  He  often  tried  ques- 
tions of  fact  with  the  brevity  for  wdiich  Sir  James 
Scarlett  and  Judge  Curtis  have  been  commended. 
But  in  desperate  cases,  the  testimony  conflicting 
and  doubtful,  such  economy  of  time  and  strength 
would  not  have  been  proper.  In  his  Recollections 
of  Mr.  Cboate,  from  which  I  have  permission  to 
quote,  Mr.  Whipple  saj-s,  "  On  one  occasion  I  hap- 
pened to  be  a  witness  in  a  case  where  a  trader 
was  prosecuted  for  obtaining  goods  under  false 
pretenses.  Mr.  Choate  took  the  ground  that  the 
seeming  knavery  of  the  accused  was  due  to  the 


ri 


ARGUMENT  IN  A    TRYING  CASE. 


125 


circumstance  that  he  had  a  deficient  business  in- 
telligence—  in  short,  that  he  unconsciously  rated 
all  his  geese  as  swans.  He  (Choate)  was  right  in 
his  view.  The  foreman  of  the  jury,  however,  was 
a  hard-headed,  practical  man,  a  model  of  business 
intellect  and  integrity,  but  with  an  incapacity  of 
understanding  any  intellect  or  conscience  radically 
differing  from  his  own.  Mr.  Choate's  argument, 
as  far  as  the  facts  and  the  law  were  concerned, 
was  through  in  an  hour.  Still  he  went  on  speak- 
ing. Hour  after  hour  passed,  and  yet  he  con- 
tinued to  speak  with  constantly  increasing  elo- 
quence, repeating  and  recapitulating,  without  any 
seeming  reason,  facts  which  he  had  already  stated 
and  arguments  which  he  li.ad  already  urged.  The 
truth  wos,  as  I  gradually  learned,  that  he  was  en- 
fj^aijred  in  a  hand-to-hand  —  or  rather  in  a  brain- 
to-brain  and  a  heart-to-heart  —  contest  with  the 
foreman,  whose  resistance  he  was  determined  to 
break  down,  but  who  confronted  him  for  three 
hours  with  defiance  observable  in  every  rigid  line 
of  his  honest  countenance.  '  You  fool  1 '  was  the 
burden  of  the  advocate's  ingenious  argument ; 
'  you  rascal ! '  was  the  phrase  legibly  printed  on 
the  foreman's  incredulous  face.  But  at  last  the 
features  of  the  foreman  began  to  relax,  and  at  the 
end  the  stern  lines  melted  into  acquiescence  with 
the  opinion  of  the  advocate,  who  had  been  storm- 


1:! 


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12G 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


ing  at  the  defenses  of  his  mind,  Ids  heart,  and  his 
conscience  for  five  hours,  and  had  now  entered  as 
victor.  lie  compelled  the  foreman  to  admit  the 
mipleasant  fact  that  there  were  existing  human 
bein<!;s  whose  mental  and  moral  constitution  dif- 
fered  from  his  own,  and  who  were  yet  as  honest 
in  intention  as  he  was,  but  lacked  his  clear  per- 
ception and  sound  judgment.  The  verdict  was, 
'Not  guilty.'  It  was  a  just  verdict,  but  it  was 
mercilessly  assailed  by  merchants  who  had  lost 
money  by  the  prisoner  and  who  were  hounding 
him  down  as  an  enemy  to  the  human  race,  as  an- 
other instance  of  Choate's  lack  of  mental  and 
moral  honesty  in'  the  defense  of  persons  accused 
of  crime.  The  fact  that  the  foreman  of  the  jury 
that  returned  the  verdict  belonged  to  the  class 
that  most  vehemently  attacked  Choate  was  suf- 
ficient of  itself  to  disprove  such  allegations.  As  I 
listened  to  Choate's  argument  in  this  case,  I  felt 
assured  that  he  would  go  on  speaking  until  he 
dropped  dead  on  the  floor  rather  than  have  relin- 
quished his  clutch  on  the  soul  of  the  one  man  on 
the  jury  who  he  knew  would  control  the  opinion 
of  the  others." 

I  may  be  allowed  to  say  that  the  stubborn  juror 
could  not  have  been  persuaded  to  adopt  Mr. 
Choate's  views  by  the  mere  repetition  of  facts  and 
arguments,  or  by  a  determination  to  break  him 


11 


LONG  ARGUMENTS. 


127 


down.  His  peciiliiiritles  were  to  bo  consulted, 
and  his  self-respect  encouraged  by  making  him 
feel  that  he  represented  the  higher  intelligence  of 
the  jury.  To  his  sense  and  apprehension  there 
were  or  should  have  been  no  Ijiild  and  verbal 
repetitions;  these  would  have  oflendcd  his  pride 
and  been  fruitless ;  would  have  involved  a  tau- 
tology which  Mr.  Choate  abhorred.  In  the  course 
of  that  discussion,  no  doubt  varied  relations  were 
recalled,  recognized  difliculties  qualified,  points 
which  had  been  stated  put  in  new  lights,  and  a 
sense  of  novelty  and  interest  excited.  On  the  last 
occasion  when  I  heard  Mr.  Choate,  he  dealt  with 
the  jury  after  that  fashion.  I  was  reminded  of 
what  Stanhope  says  of  Fox's  repetitions  —  that 
one  argument  stated  in  five  different  forms  may 
be  equal  to  five  different  arguments. 

The  critic  who  thinks  that  Mr.  Choate's  argu- 
ments were  long  would  do  well  to  recall  the  suc- 
cess that  often  crowned  his  efforts ;  also  that  one 
of  Erskine's  speeches  occupied  seven  hours ;  that, 
with  us,  counsel,  sensible  of  the  value  of  time, 
have  been  known  to  speak  to  the  purpose  in  a 
case  and  entertain  a  jury  for  a  week ;  and  that  in 
the  Star  Route  trial  the  arguments  of  two  of  the 
counsfel  consumed,  each,  seven  days. 


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CHAPTER  VIII. 

Eev.  Dr.  Hitchcock's  View  of  Mr.  Clioate.  —  Extracts  from 
Journal.  —  The  Comparative  Advantages  of  living  in  the 
Okl  World.  —  iMusic.  —  Vindication  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  — 
Intervention.  —  Kossuth's  Visit.  —  Eulogy  of  Webster. 

Mr.  Ciioate's  study  of  the  great  masters  of 
speech  in  several  languages  left  him  in  the  use 
of  a  style  that  was  best  suited  to  his  taste  and 
genius.  Hence  it  is  that  a  wholesome  relation 
appears  between  the  sympathetic  power  of  his 
early  and  of  his  later  speeches.  Such  was  the 
opinion  of  Chief  Justice  Perley,  who  entered  col- 
lege when  young  Choate  was  there,  and  knew  him 
up  to  the  close  of  his  life.  In  speaking  of  his 
early  studies,  the  Chief  Justice  says,  "  He  was 
already  remarkaljle  for  the  same  brilliant  qualities 
which  distinguished  him  in  his  subsequent  career. 
To  those  who  knew  him  then,  and  watched  his 
on»vard  course,  little  change  was  observable  in  his 
style  of  writing  or  in  his  manner  of  speaking, 
except  such  as  would  naturally  be  required  by 
subjects  of  a  wider  range,  and  by  more  exacting 
occasions." 


<  i 


nEV.   DR.  HITCHCOCK  ON"  CHOATE. 


129 


I  am  indebted  to  the  Rev.  Roswell  D.  Hitch- 
cock, D.  D,,  President  of  the  Union  Theolo^ncal 
Seniinarv,  New  York,  for  the  following: :  '•  Between 
the  3'ears  1845  and  1852,  when  I  was  living  in 
Exeter,  N.  II.,  and  was  often  in  Boston,  I  used 
to  see  Mr.  Choate  in  Burnliam's  antiquarian  Ijook- 
store,  on  Cornhill.  I  had  no  speaking  acquaint- 
ance with  him,  but  more  than  once  lie  jj-ave  a  sort 
of  gracious  half-recognition,  which  seemed  to  me 
the  very  perfection  of  courtesy  and  kindliness.  As 
he  moved  about  among  the  old  books,  findinu;  now 
and  then  something  that  pleased  him,  there  was 
no  mistaking  the  rare  quality  of  the  man.  That 
fine  face,  so  deeply  furrowed,  the  keen,  but  genial, 
glance  of  the  eye,  the  whole  air  so  self-respecting 
and  yet  so  sweetly  deferential  to  others,  always 
thrilled  me  at  the  time,  and  haunted  my  memory 
long  afterwards." 

Of  Mr.  Choate's  style  and  its  effect,  Dr.  Hitch- 
cock says,  "  Certainly  he  seldom  failed  to  carry 
his  point  with  any  jury,  or  any  popular  assembly. 
He  caught  men  up  and  swept  them  along,  as  the 
wind  sweeps  leaves  and  dust.  Whoever  seeks  to 
know  the  secret  of  this  will  find  it  preeminently 
in  the  innermost,  essential  character  of  the  man. 
He  was  pure,  and  just,  and  true,  and  tender,  so 
that  whatever  he  said  commended,  and  still  com- 
mends, itself  to  what  is  best  and  highest  in  our 


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130 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIJOATE. 


common  nature.  lie  was  not  only  tliorouglily 
good,  but  liis  goodness  wan  fine  and  ehivalric. 
The  fascination  was  moral.  The  heart  was  cap- 
tured first,  and  after  that  the  imagination.  His 
marvelous  fertility  of  invention,  wealth  of  allu- 
sion, and  swift  succession  of  inimitable  felicities 
of  thought  and  diction  never  seemed  like  devices 
to  blind  and  betray  the  judgment,  but  came  as 
naturally  as  the  bloom  of  fruit-trees,  or  the  foam 
of  crested  waves.  His  voice  was  one  of  a  thou- 
sand, of  ten  thousand  rather,  now  like  a  tlute  for 
softness,  and  now  like  a  clarion." 

Mr.  Choate  could  say  what  he  would,  in  what- 
ever style  ho  would,  with  ease  and  certainty.  He 
writes  and  speaks  as  one  thoughtless  of  mere 
style,  and  there  seems  to  be  almost  no  limit  to 
the  variety  of  tone  and  exjiression. 

I  give  some  extracts,  mere  fragments,  from  his 
Journal,^  showing  briefly  some  of  his  impressions 
in  1850,  when  he  was  traveling  abroad. 

"  Monday,  August  5,  Lucerne.  This,  then,  is 
Switzerland.  It  is  a  sweet,  burning  midsummer's 
morning  at  Lucerne.  Under  one  of  m^^  wi^  dows 
is  a  little  garden  in  which  I  see  curra.  jbages, 

pear-trees,   vines,   healthfully   growi.  Before 

me,  from  the  other,  I  see  the  lake  of  Lucerre, — 
beyond  it,  in  farthest  east,  I  see  the  snowy  peaks 

1  Browii's  Memoirs^  vol.  i. 


FRAGMENTS  OF   THE  JOURNAL. 


131 


of  Alps.  I  count  some  tlo/x'u  distinct  .summits  on 
"svliicli  the  snow  is  lying,  composing  a  rangu  of 
many  miles.  On  my  extromo  right  ascends  JNIount 
Pilate,  —  splintered,  bare  granite,  —  and,  on  the 
other,  Righi,  high  and  bold,  yet  wooded  nearly  to 
the  top.  It  is  a  scene  of  great  beauty  and  inter- 
est, Avhere  all  '  save  the  spirit  of  man '  may  seem 
divine.  We  left  IJasle  at  nine  on  Saturday  morn- 
ing, and  got  to  Zurich  that  evening  at  six.  This 
ride  opened  no  remarkaldc  beauty  or  grandeur, 
yet  possessed  great  interest.  It  was  performed 
in  a  diligence,  —  the  old,  continental  stage-coach. 
And  the  impression  made  through  the  whole  day, 
or  until  we  approached  Zurich,  was  exactly  that 
of  a  ride  in  the  coach  from  Hanover  to  the  White 
Hills.  I  ascribe  this  to  the  obvious  circumstances 
that  we  were  already  far  above  the  sea,  were 
ascending  along  the  bank  of  a  river,  the  Rhine, 
and  then  a  branch  which  met  us,  rushing  full  and 
fast  from  its  mountain  sources  —  that  we  were  ap- 
proaching the  base  of  mountains  of  the  first  class 
in  a  high  northern  latitude.  The  agricultural 
productions  (except  the  exotic  vine),  the  grass, 
weeds  moderate  ;  wheat  —  clover  —  whiteweed  — 
the  construction  of  the  valley  —  the  occasional 
bends  and  intervals  —  all  seem  that  of  New  Eng- 
land. There  was  less  beauty  than  at  Newbury 
and  Bath,  and,  I  think,  not  a  richer  soil,  —  cer- 


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132 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


tainly  a  poorer  people.  They  assiduously  accu- 
mulate manure,  and  women  of  all  ages  were  reap- 
ing in  the  fields. 

"•  Zurich  is  beautiful.  The  lake  extends  beau- 
tifully to  the  south  before  it.  Pleasant  gardens 
and  orchards  and  heights  lie  down  to  it  and  ad- 
joining it.  And  here  first  we  saw  the  Alps  —  a 
vast  chain.  The  glaciers,  ranging  from  east  to 
west,  closing  the  view  to  the  south  —  their  peaks, 
covered  with  snow,  lay  along  as  battlements,  un- 
supported beneath,  of  a  city  of  the  sky  out  of 
sight. 

"  All  things  in  Zui-ich  announce  Protestantism, 
—  activity  of  mind,  the  university,  the  books,  the 
learned  men,  the  new  buildings,  the  prosperity. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  the  sweet  sensations  wnth 
which  I  rode  the  first  five  or  ten  miles  from  Zurich 
yesterday.  It  was  Sunday.  The  bells  of  Zurich 
were  ringing,  —  including  that  honored  by  the 
preaching  of  Zwingle,  —  and  men,  women,  and 
children  were  dressed,  and  with  books  were  going 
to  meeting.  Our  way  lay  for  some  time  idong 
the  shores  of  the  lake,  through  gardens,  orchards, 
and  fields,  to  the  water's  edge,  many  of  them  of 
the  highest  beauty.  Then  it  left  the  lake  to 
ascend  the  Albis.  This  is  an  excellent  road,  but, 
to  overcome  the  mountain,  its  course  is  zigzag,  and 
is  practicable  only  for  a  walk  of  the  horses.     I  got 


Z  URICH  —  L  UCERNE. 


133 


out,  and  ascended  on  foot,  crossing  from  one  ter- 
race of  road  to  another,  hy  paths  through  pleasant 
woods.  As  I  ascended,  the  whole  valley  of  Zurich, 
—  the  city,  the  lake,  in  its  whole  length,  the 
amphitheatre  of  country  inclosing  it,  the  glorious 
Alps,  and,  at  last,  Righi  and  Pilate,  standing  like 
the  speaker's  place  in  a  lyceum,  with  an  audience 
of  mountains  vastly  higher,  rising  into  the  peculiar 
pinnacle  of  the  Alps,  covered  with  snow,  ascend- 
ing before  them,  —  successively  evolved  itself.  I 
saw  over  half  of  Switzerland.  Spread  on  it  all 
was  the  sweet,  not  oppressive,  unclouded,  sum- 
mer's sunlight.  A  pure,  clear  air  enfolded  it,  — 
the  Sunday  of  the  pastoral,  sheltered,  and  happy 
world.  In  some  such  scenes  the  foundations  of 
the  Puritan  mind  and  polity  were  laid,  —  scenes, 
beautiful  by  the  side  of  Tempe  and  Arcady,  —  fit 
as  they  to  nurse  and  shelter  all  the  kinds  of 
liberty. 

"  We  descended  to  Zug  and  its  lake,  and  then 
coasted  it  to  Lucerne.  Last  evening  we  visited 
the  emblematical  lion  and  sailed  on  the  lake. 
To-day  I  go  to  the  cliapel  of  Tell.  The  first  view 
of  the  peculiar  sharp  points  of  Alps  was  just  from 
the  very  top  of  Albis,  on  the  southwest  brow. 
There  rose  Righi  and  Pilate,  and  east  —  apart 
and  above  —  a  sort  of  range,  or  city,  of  the  tents 
of  an  encampment  in  the  sky.     They  rested  on 


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134 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


nothing,  and  seemed  architecture  of  heaven  —  pa- 
vilions —  the  tents  of  a  cavalcade  travehng  above 
the  earth. 

"  Berne,  Wednesday,  7th.  We  left  Lucerne  at 
seven,  in  our  own  hired  voiture,  and  with  one 
change  of  horses,  treating  ourselves  to  two  long 
pauses,  arrived  here  at  eight  o'clock  —  the  hist 
two  hours  through  a  thunder-shower.  The  way 
gave  me  much  of  the  common  and  average  life  of 
Switzerland,  lying  through  two  of  its  great  can- 
tons. What  I  saw  of  Lucerne  disappointed  me. 
The  soil,  I  should  think,  cold  and  ungrateful,  and 
the  mind  of  the  lal)orer  not  open.  Crucifixes 
everywhere,  and  all  over  everything,  —  weeds  in 
corn  and  grass.  Once  in  Berne  all  changes.  Man 
docs  his  duty.  Excellent  stone  bridges ;  good 
fences ;  fewer  weeds ;  more  wheat  and  grass ; 
more  look  of  labor;  better  buildings;  better, 
newer,  larger  houses  and  barns ;  no  crucifixes ; 
express  the  change.  Throughout  I  find  a  small- 
ish, homely  race,  and  pursue  the  dream  of  Swiss 
life  in  vain.  Yet  in  these  valleys,  on  the  sides  of 
these  hills,  in  these  farm-houses,  scattered  far  and 
near,  though  all  is  cut  off  from  the  great  arterial 
and  venous  system  of  the  world  of  trade  and  in- 
fluence, —  though  the  great  pulse  of  business  and 
politics  beats  not  —  though  life  might  seem  to 
stagnate,  —  is  happiness  and  goodness  too.    Some- 


BERXE. 


135 


times  a  high  Swiss  mind  emerges,  and,  speaking 
a  foreign  or  dead  tongue,  or  migrating,  asserts 
itself.  Berne  is  full  of  liveliness  and  recency,  as 
well  as  eld.  I  have  run  over  it  before  breakfast, 
and  shall  atjcain  before  we  0:0. 

"  I  saw  at  Berne  the  place  of  the  state  bears, 
and  two  of  the  pensioners,  the  high  terraced 
ground  of  vie\v,  the  residence  of  the  patricians, 
and  the  Cathedral,  containing,  among  other  things, 
tablets  to  the  memory  of  those  who  fell  in  1708, 
enumerating  them ;  and  the  painted  windows  of 
Protestant  satire.  Our  journey  to  Vevay  had 
little  interest,  a  grim  horizon  of  cloud  and  a  con- 
stant fall  of  rain  wholly  obscured  the  Alps.  Frei- 
burg is  striking,  its  suspended  bridge  sublime,  and 
it  holds  one  of  the  best  organs  of  the  world.  We 
arrived  here  (Vevay)  at  ten,  and  I  have  this  morn- 
ing looked  out  on  the  whole  beauty  of  this  part 
of  the  lake,  —  from  Ilautevillc,  and  from  a  point 
on  the  sho.  above  it,  and  towards  the  direction 
of  Chillon, —  and  admitted  its  supreme  interest, 
and  its  various  physical  and  associated  beaut3\ 
The  day  is  clear  and  warm  and  still.  Tlie  slight- 
est breeze  stirs  the  surface  of  the  lake ;  light 
clouds  curl  half-wa}'  up  the  steep  shores,  float, 
vanish,  and  are  succeeded  by  others  ;  a  summer's 
sun  bathes  a  long  shore  and  inland  rising  from  the 
shore,  clad  thick  with  vines ;  yonder,  looking  to 


Ifii 


\'i 

H 

1 

\v\\ 


w 


:».Mii 


Mi'  ■ 


136 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


I'  •■     \ 


W^~ 


\.\  r!  i 


:  r  1  -  !■ 


the  southeast  upon  the  water,  in  that  valley, 
sheltered  by  the  mountahi,  nestling  among  those 
trees,  eniljraced  and  held  still  in  the  arms  of  uni- 
versal love,  is  Clarens,  —  fit,  unpolluted  asylum 
of  love  and  philosophy  ;  before  it,  on  its  left,  is 
the  castle  of  Chillon,  more  directly  before  it  the 
mouth  of  the  Rhone,  here  resting  a  space  in  his 
long  flight  from  his  glacier-source  ;  far-off,  west, 
stretched  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  at  peace,  here  and 
there  a  white  sail,  —  the  home,  the  worship,  the 
inspiration  of  Rousseau  and  De  Stael ;  the  shelter 
of  liberty  ;  the  cradle  of  free-thinking  ;  the  scene 
in  which  tlie  character  and  fortune  of  Puritanism 
were  shaped  and  made  possible ;  the  true  birth- 
place of  the  civil  and  religious  order  of  the  north- 
ern New  World. 

"  Geneva,  9th  August,  Friday.  The  lake  was 
smooth  and  bright,  and  our  voyage  of  five  hours 
pleasant  and  prosperous ;  and  we  had  the  extraor- 
dinary fortune  to  witness  what  we  are  assured  was 
the  best  sunset  on  Mont  Blanc  for  years.  Long 
after  the  sun  had  sunk  below  our  earth,  the  whole 
range  of  the  mountain  W£ls  in  a  blaze  with  the 
descending  glory.  At  first  it  was  a  mere  reflec- 
tion, from  a  long  and  high  surface,  of  the  sun's 
rays.  Gradually  this  passed  into  a  golden  and 
rosy  hue,  then  all  darkened  except  the  supreme 
summit  itself,  from  which  the  gold  light  flashed, 


li      I 


MONT  BLANC. 


137 


beamed,  some  time  longer ;  one  bright  turret  of 
the  building  not  made  with  hands,  kindled  from 
within,  self-poi.sed,  or  held  by  an  unseen  hand. 
Under  our  feet  ran  the  Rhone,  leaping,  joyful, 
full,  blue,  to  his  bed  in  the  Mediterranean.  Be- 
fore us  is  the  city  of  thought,  liberty,  power,  in- 
fluence, the  beautiful  and  famous  Geneva.  More 
than  ail  in  interest  was  the  house  of  the  father  of 
Madame  de  Stael,  and  the  home  of  the  studies  of 
Gibbon. 

"  I  went  on  Saturday,  August  10,  to  the  nearer 
contemplation  of  Mont  Blanc,  at  Chamouny.  Most 
of  that  journey  lies  through  Savoy,  of  the  kingdom 
of  Sardinia,  even  as  far  as  St.  Martin,  and  beyond 
somewhat,  a  well-constructed  royal  road.  AVithin 
the  first  third,  I  should  think,  of  the  day's  ride 
out  from  Geneva,  and  long  before  Mont  Blanc 
again  reveals  himself  (for  you  lose  sight  of  him 
wholly  in  a  mile  or  two  out  of  the  city),  you  enter 
a  country  of  much  such  scenery  as  the  Notch  of 
the  White  Mountains.  An  excellent  road  ascends 
by  the  side  of  the  Arve,  itself  a  mad,  eager  stream, 
leaping  from  the  mcr  Je  r/Iace,  and  running  head- 
long, of  the  color  of  milk  mixed  with  clay,  to  the 
Rhone,  below  Geneva,  on  each  side  of  which  rise, 
one  after  another,  a  succession  of  vast  heights, 
some  a  half  mile  to  a  mile  above  you,  all  steep, 
more  than  even  perpendicular,  and  even  hanging 


i    ■:    t 


'M 


>\ 


■  I 


1 

1 

i!      ' 

1 
% 

i 

i-       1  ■ 
i 

1 

1      .1 

.  i.1... 

jiii 

0: 

w.i..i 


I'..    /' 


V;||.; 

1 

138 


MEMORIES  OF  ItUFUS  CIIOATE. 


over  you,  as  projecting  beyond  their  base.  Theso 
are  so  near,  and  our  view  so  unoljstructed,  and 
they  are  all  of  ,a  height  so  comprehensible  and 
appreciable,  so  to  speak,  so  little  is  lost  by  an  un- 
availing elevation,  that  they  make  more  impres- 
sion than  a  mountain  five  times  as  high.  It  is 
exactly  as  in  the  Notch,  where  the  grandeur,  in- 
stead of  being  enthroned  remote,  dim,  and  resting 
in  measurement,  and  demanding  comparisons  and 
thoughts,  is  near,  palpable,  and  exacting.  Down 
many  of  these  streamed  rivulets  of  water,  sil- 
ver threads  of  hundreds,  perhaps  of  thousands, 
of  feet  long  from  source  to  base  of  cliff,  often 
totally  floating  off  from  the  side  of  the  hill,  and 
the  bed  in  which  they  had  begun  to  run,  in  a 
mere  mist,  which  fell  like  rain,  and  farther  down, 
and  to  the  right  or  left  of  the  original  fiow,  were 
condensed  again  into  mere  streams.  These  have 
no  character  of  waterfall  as  you  ride  along,  but 
discharge  a  great  deal  of  water  in  a  very  pictur- 
esque, holiday,  and  wanton  fashion.  This  kind 
of  scenery  grows  bolder  and  ^vilder,  and  at  last, 
and  suddenly,  at  St.  Martin,  Ave  saw  again,  above 
it,  and  beyond  it  all,  the  range  of  Mont  Blanc, 
covered  with  snow,  and  at  first,  its  summit  covered 
too  'vith  clouds.  Thenceforth  this  was  ever  in 
view,  and  some  hours  before  sunset  the  cloud.^ 
lifted  themselves  and  vanished,  and  we  looked  till 


I 


COMPARA  TIVE  ADVANTA  GES. 


139 


all  ^vas  dark  upon  the  unveiled  siunniit  itself. 
Again  Ave  had  a  beautiful  evening  sky ;  again, 
but  this  time  directly  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain, 
we  stood  and  watched  the  survivin<r,  diminishing: 
glory,  and  just  as  that  faded  from  the  loftiest 
peak,  and  it  was  night,  I  turned  and  saw  the  new 
moon  opposite,  within  an  hour  of  setting  in  the 
west.  From  all  this  glory,  and  at  this  elevation, 
my  heart  turned  homeward,  and  I  only  wished 
that  since  dear  friends  could  not  share  this  here, 
I  could  be  by  their  side,  and  Mont  Blanc  a  morn- 
ing's imagination  only." 

His  impressions  as  to  the  contrast  between  the 
advantages  of  living  In  the  Old  and  in  the  New 
World  are  of  special  interest. 

"The  higher  charm  of  Europe  is  attributable 
only  to  her  bearing  on  her  bosom  here  and  there 
some  memorials  of  a  civilization  about  seven  or 
eight  hundred  years  old.  Of  any  visible  traces 
of  anything  earlier  there  is  nothing.  All  earlier 
is  of  the  ancient  life,  is  in  books,  and  may  be  ap- 
propriated by  us,  as  well  as  by  her,  under  God, 
and  by  proper  helps.  The  gathering  of  that  eight 
hundred  years,  however,  collected  and  held  here, 
—  libraries,  art,  famous  places,  educational  spec- 
tacles of  architecture,  picture,  statue,  gardening, 
fountains,  —  are  rich,  rich,  and  some  of  them  we 
can  never  have  nor  use. 


i.:) 


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■  i      jit  f * 


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140 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


"  On  how  many  European  minds,  in  a  genera- 
tion, is  felt  edueationally  the  inthience  of  that 
large  body  of  spectacles  specifically  European,  and 
which  can  never  be  transferred  ?  Kecollect,  first, 
that  all  her  books  we  can  have  among  us  perma- 
nently. All  her  history  we  can  read  and  know, 
therefore,  and  all  things  printed.  What  remains  ? 
What  that  can  never  be  transferred  ?  Picture, 
statue,  building,  grounds ;  beyond  and  above,  a 
spirit  of  the  j^lcice ;  whatsoever  and  all  which 
comes  from  living  in  and  visitinii;  memorable 
places.  How  many  in  Europe  are  influenced,  and 
how,  by  this  last  ?  The  recorded  history  affects 
us  as  it  docs  them.  In  which  hemisphere  would 
an  imaginative  and  speculative  mind  most  enjoy 
itself?  In  America,  land  of  hope!  liberty, — 
Utopia  sobered,  realized,  to  be  fitted  according  to 
an  idea,  with  occasional  visits  to  this  picture- 
gallery  and  museum,  occasional  studies  here  of 
the  objects  we  can't  have ;  or  here,  under  an  in- 
flexible realization,  inequalities  of  condition,  rank, 
force,  property,  tribute  to  the  Past,  —  the  Past ! ! ! 

"  Looking  to  classes :  1st.  The  vast  mass  is 
happier  and  better  in  America,  is  worth  more, 
rises  higher,  is  freer ;  its  standard  of  culture  and 
life  higher.  2.  Property-holders  are  as  scarce.  3. 
The  class  of  wealth,  taste,  social  refinement,  and 
irenius,  —  how  with  them  ? 


OUR  ADVANTAGES   THE   GREATEST. 


141 


\C'  i  = 


*'  Mom.  The  enjoyment  of  an  Americjin  of  re- 
fined tastes  and  a  spirit  of  love  of  man  is  as  high 
as  that  of  a  European  of  the  same  class.  He  has 
all  but  ^vhat  visits  will  give  him,  and  he  has  what 
no  visits  can  give  the  other. 

"  What  one  human  being,  not  of  a  privileged 
class,  is  better  off  in  Europe  than  he  would  be 
in  America  ?  Possibly  a  mere  scholar,  or  student 
of  art,  seeking  learning  or  taste  for  itself,  to  ac- 
complish himself.  But  the  question  is,  if  in  any 
case,  high  and  low,  the  same  rate  of  mind,  and 
the  same  kind  of  mind,  may  not  be  as  happy  in 
America  as  in  Europe.  It  must  modify  its  aims 
and  sources  somewhat,  live  out  of  itself,  seek  to 
do  good,  educate  others.  It  may  acquire  less, 
teach  more ;  suck  into  its  veins  less  nutriment, 
less  essence,  less  perception  of  beauty,  less  relish 
of  it  (this  I  doubt),  but  diffuse  it  more. 

"  What  is  it  worth  to  live  among  all  that  I  have 
seen  ?  I  think  access  to  the  books  and  works  of 
art  is  all.  There  is  no  natural  beauty  thus  far 
beyond  ours,  —  and  a  storied  country,  storied  of 
battles  and  blood,  — is  that  an  educational  inllu- 
ence  ? " 

Those  who  have  thought  that  Mr.  Clioate  had 
little  taste  for  music  may  wish  that  they  had 
stood  by  him  in  the  Cathedral  of  Strasburg, 
"where    mass   was    performing,  and   a   glorious 


1      : 

■  ,1 

^t  ^ 

I 

;•            1 

t      ' 

r 

!i       -^ 


i    i 


{    . 

m 


!^i 


142 


MEMORIES  or  nUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


organ  was  lilling  that  iinboiinckHl  interior  with 
tlio  grandest  and  the  sweetest  of  music,  tlirough 
whose  pauses  you  heard  the  muttered  voice  of 
the  priest,  and  the  chanting  of  a  choir  wholly  out 
of  sight."  Or,  at  St.  Deni.s,  where  "  The  organ 
was  played  just  enough  to  show  what  oceans  and 
firmaments  full  of  hai'inony  are  there  accumu- 
lated. Some  drops,  some  rivulets,  some  grandest 
peals  we  heard,  identifying  it,  and  creating  long- 
ings for  more," 

Mr.  Clioate  had  a  fervent  admiration  for  Sir 
Walter  Scott.  In  his  lecture  on  our  '•  Obliga- 
tions to  the  British  Poets,"  delivered  in  1S56, 
he  defends  Scott  and  his  novels  against  one  of 
the  detractors.  The  following  will  illustrate  the 
moderate  tone  which  was  peculiar  to  Mr.  Clioate 
when  indulging  in  controversy.  He  says,  '•  It  has 
pleased  Mr.  Thomas  Carlyle  to  record  of  these 
novels,  —  'The  sick  heart  will  find  no  healing 
here,  the  darkly  struggling  heart  no  guidance, 
the  heroic  that  is  in  all  men  no  divine,  awakening 
voice.'  These  be  sonorous  words  assuredly.  In 
one  sense  I  am  afraid  that  is  true  of  any  and  all 
mere  romantic  literature.  As  disparagement  of 
Scott,  it  is  a  simple  absurdity  of  injustice.  In  any 
adequate  sense  of  these  expressions,  Homer  and 
Shakespeare  must  answer,  *  These  are  not  mine 
to  give.'     To  heal  that  sickness,  to  pour  that  light 


GEXTLK   TONE  IN  CONTROVERSY. 


143 


on  that  gloom,  to  awaken  that  j^lcop  of  ;^rontness 
in  the  soul  in  the  lii|j;hest  sense,  iar  other  pro- 
vision is  demanded,  and  is  given.  In  the  old,  old 
time,  —  Hebrew,  Pagan,  —  some  found  it  in  the 
very  voice  of  God  ;  some  in  the  visits  of  the 
angel ;  some  in  a  pilgrimage  to  the  beautiful 
Jerusalem ;  some  in  the  message  of  the  prophet, 
till  that  snccession  had  its  close ;  some  sought  it 
rather  than  found  it,  like  Socrates,  like  Plato,  like 
Cicero,  like  Cato,  in  the  thoughts  of  their  own 
and  other  mighty  minds  turned  to  the  direct 
search  of  truth,  in  the  philosophy  of  speculation, 
in  the  philosophy  of  duty,  in  the  practice  of  public 
life.  To  ns  only,  and  at  last,  is  given  the  trne 
light.  For  ns  only  is  the  great  Physician  pro- 
vided. In  our  cars,  in  theirs  whose  testimony  we' 
assuredly  believe,  the  divine,  awakening  voice  has 
been  articulately  and  first  spoken.  In  this  sense, 
what  he  says  would  be  true  of  Homer,  Shake- 
speare, Dante,  Milton,  but  no  more  true  of  Scott 
than  of  Goethe  or  Schiller.  Neither  is,  or  gives, 
religion  to  the  soul,  if  it  is  that  of  which  he 
speaks.  But  if  this  is  not  his  meaning,  —  and  I 
suppose  it  is  not,  if  he  means  to  say  that  by  tlie 
same  general  treatment,  by  the  same  form  of  suf- 
fering humanity  by  which  Homer,  Virgil,  Dante, 
Shakespeare  heal  the  sick  heart,  give  light  to  the 
darkened  eye,  and  guidance  to  blundering  feet, 


11 


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w 


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144 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


{111(1  kindlo  the  heroic  in  man  to  life,  —  if  ho 
ineanH  to  say  that  as  they  have  done  it  he  has 
not  in  kind,  in  supreme  degree,  —  let  the  millions 
whose  hours  of  unrest,  anguish,  and  fear  he  has 
charmed  iiway,  to  the  darkness  of  whose  despond- 
ing he  has  given  light,  to  whose  sentiments  of 
honor,  duty,  courage,  truth,  maidiness,  he  has 
given  help,  —  let  tliem  gather  around  the  capitol 
and  answer  for  themselves  and  him.  I  am  afraid 
that  that  I)eli)hic  and  glorious  Madame  de  Stael 
knew  sickness  of  the  heart  in  a  sense  and  with  a 
depth  too  true  only  ;  and  she  had,  with  other  con- 
solation, the  fisherman's  funeral,  in  the  *  Anti- 
quary,' re.'ul  to  her  on  her  death-bed  ;  as  Charles 
Fox  had  the  kindred  but  unequal  sketches  of 
Crabbe's  '  Village  '   read  on  his. 

"  And  so  of  this  complaint,  that  the  heroic  in 
man  finds  here  no  divine,  awakening  voice.  If 
by  this  heroic  in  man  he  means  what  —  assuming 
religious  traits  out  of  the  question  —  Ave  who 
speak  the  tongue  of  England  and  hold  the  ethics 
of  Plato,  of  Cicero,  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  and  Ed- 
mund Burke  should  understand,  —  religion  now 
out  of  the  question  —  that  sense  of  obligation, 
pursuing  us  ever,  omnipresent  like  the  Deity,  ever 
proclaiming  that  the  duties  of  life  are  more  than 
life,  —  that  principle  of  honor  that  feels  a  stain 
like  a  wound,  —  that  courage  that  fears  God  and 


ft 


APPEALS   TO  HEROIC  SPIRITS. 


145 


f 


knows  no  otlicr  fear,  that  dares  do  all  that  may 
become  a  man, —  truth  on  the  lips  and  in  the 
inward  parts,  —  that  love  of  our  own  native 
land,  comprehensive  and  full  love,  the  absence  of 
which  makes  even  the  superb  art-world  of  Goethe 
dreamy  and  epicurean,  —  manliness,  e([ual  to  all 
ofhces  of  war  or  peace,  above  jealousy,  above  in- 
justice—  if  this  is  the  heroic,  and  if  b}^  the  divine 
awakcnin<j^  voice  he  meant  that  artistic  and  lit- 
erary culture  fitted  to  develop  and  train  this 
quality,  that  voice  is  Scott's. 

"  I  will  not  compare  him  with  Carlyle's  Goethe 
or  even  Schiller,  or  any  other  idol  on  the  Olym- 
pus of  his  worship ;  that  were  flippant  and  indec- 
orous, nor  within  my  competence.  But  who  and 
where,  in  any  literature,  in  any  walk  of  genius, 
has  sketched  a  character,  imagined  a  situation, 
conceived  an  austerity  of  glorified  suffering,  bet- 
ter adapted  to  awaken  all  of  the  heroic  in  man 
or  woman  that  it  is  fit  to  awaken,  than  Kcbecca 
in  act  to  leap  from  the  dizzy  verge  of  the  parapet 
of  the  castle  to  escape  the  Templar,  or  awaiting 
the  bitterness  of  death  in  the  list  of  Tomplestowe 
and  rejecting  the  championship  of  her  admirer  ?  — 
or  than  Jeanie  Deans  refusing  an  untruth  to  save 
her  innocent  sister's  life  and  then  Avalking  to  Lon- 
don  to  plead  for  her  before  the  Queen,  —  and  so 
pleading  ?  —  than  Macbriar  in  that  group  of  Gov- 


10 


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i 

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N' 

140 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  C HO  ATE. 


enanters  in  "  Old  Mortality "  in  presence  of  the 
Privy  Council  confessing  for  himself,  whom  terror, 
whom  torture  could  not  move  to  the  betrayal  '-^  an- 
other; accepting  sentence  of  death,  after  anguish 
unimaginable,  his  face  radiant  with  joy  ;  a  trial  of 
manhood  and  trust,  a  sublimity  of  trial,  a  mani- 
festation of  the  heroic  to  which  the  self-sacrifice 
of  a  Leonidas  and  his  three  hundred  was  but  a 
wild  and  ^^lad  revelry,  —  a  march  to  the  '  Dorian 
music  of  flutes  and  soft  recorders,'  —  a  crowning, 
after  the  holiday  contention  of  the  games,  with 
all  of  glory  a  Greek  could  covet  or  conceive  ?  " 

In  an  address  on  the  "  Intervention  of  the  New 
"World  in  the  Affairs  of  the  Old,"  delivered  in 
1852,  Mr.  Choate  thus  speaks  of  Kossuth.  I  cite 
this  passage  as  illustrative  of  his  style ;  also  be- 
cause Kossuth's  visit  to  us  is  of  interest  as  matter 
of  history,  and  is  nowhere  else  so  fitly  given. 

"  On  the  fifth  day  of  the  last  December,  there 
came  to  this  land  a  man  of  alien  blood,  of  foreign 
and  unfamiliar  habit,  costume,  and  accent ;  yet 
the  most  eloquent  of  speech  according  to  his 
mode,  —  the  most  eloquent  by  his  history  and 
circumstances, —  the  most  eloquent  by  his  mission 
and  topics,  whom  the  world  lias,  for  many  ages^ 
seen ;  and  began,  among  us  a  brief  sojourn,  — 
began,  say  rather,  a  brief  and  strange,  eventful 
pilgrimage,  which  is  just  now  concluded.     Iinper- 


\A, 


KOSSUTH'S   VISIT. 


147 


feet  in  his  mastery  of  our  tongue,  —  lie  took  his 
first  lessons  in  the  little  room  over  the  barrack- 
gate  of  Buda,  a  few  months  before,  —  his  only 
practice  in  it  had  been  a  few  speeches  to  quite 
uncritical  audiences  in  Southampton,  in  Birming- 
ham, Manchester,  and  Guildhall  ;  Ijred  in  a  school 
of  taste  and  general  culture  with  which  our  An- 
glo-Saxon training  has  little  affinity  and  little 
sympathy ;  the  representative  and  impersonation, 
though  not,  I  believe,  the  native  child,  of  a  race 
from  the  East,  planted  some  centuries  ago  in  Eu- 
rope, but  Oriental  still  as  ever,  in  all  but  its  Chris- 
tianity ;  the  pleader  of  a  cause  in  which  we  might 
seem  to  be  as  little  concerned  as  in  the  story  of 
the  lone  Pelops  or  that  of  Troy  divine,  coming 
before  us  even  such  —  that  silver  voice,  that  sad, 
abstracted  eye,  before  which  one  image  seemed 
alone  to  hover,  one  procession  to  be  passing,  the 
fallen  Hungary  —  the  '  unnamed  demigods,'  Iier 
thousands  of  devoted  sons ;  that  earnest  and  full 
soul,  laboring  with  one  emotion,  has  held  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  all  degrees  of  suscepti- 
bility ;  the  coldness  and  self-contio!  of  the  East, 
the  more  spontaneous  sympathies  of  the  West, 
the  masses  in  numbeis  without  number,  women, 
scholars,  our  greatest  names  in  civil  places,  by  the 
seashore,  in  banquet  halls,  in  halls  of  legislation, 
among   the   memories  of   Bunker   Hill,  —  every- 


M> 


^illl^ 


''. ! 


miL 


'^iinr>K 


mi 

Ml 

I 

m 


f  i' 


148 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CTIOATE. 


where  he  has  held  all,  with  a  charm  as  absolute 
as  that  with  which  the  Ancient  Mariner  kept  back 
the  bridal  guest  after  the  music  of  the  marriage 
feast  had  begun. 

"  The  trilmte  of  tears  and  applaudings ;  the 
tribute  of  sympathy  and  of  thoughts  too  deep  for 
applaudings,  too  deep  for  tears,  have  attested  his 
sway.  For  the  first  time  since  the  transcendent 
gi'nlus  of  Demosthenes  strove  with  the  downward 
age  of  Greece  ;  or  since  the  prophets  of  Israel  an- 
nounced —  each  tone  of  the  hymn  grander,  sad- 
der, than  before  —  the  successive  footfalls  of  the 
approaching  Assyrian  beneath  whose  spear  the 
Law  should  cease  and  the  vision  be  seen  no  more ; 
our  ears,  our  hearts,  have  drunk  the  sweetest, 
most  mournful,  most  awful  of  the  words  which 
man  may  ever  utter,  or  may  ever  hear  —  the  elo- 
quence of  an  expiring  nation. 

"  For  of  all  this  tide  of  speech,  flowing  without 
ebb,  there  was  one  source  only.  To  one  note  only 
was  the  harp  of  this  enchantment  strung.  It  was 
an  appeal  not  to  the  interests,  not  to  the  reason, 
not  to  the  prudence,  not  to  the  justice,  not  to  the 
instructed  conscience  of  America  and  Englani  i ; 
but  to  the  mere  emotion  of  sympathy  for  a  single 
family  of  man  oppressed  by  another  —  contending 
to  be  free,  cloveri  down  on  the  field,  yet  again 
erect ;  her  body  dead,  her  spirit  incapable  to  die  ; 


I 


THE  SYMPATHY  KOSSUTH  AWAKENED.      149 

the  victim  of  treachery ;  the  victim  of  power  ;  the 
victim  of  intervention ;  yet  breathing,  singing, 
lingering,  dying,  hoping,  through  all  the  pain,  the 
bliss  of  an  (Kjony  of  <jh}rij  !  For  this  perishing 
nation  —  not  one  inhabitant  of  which  Ave  ever 
saw  ;  on  whose  territory  we  had  never  set  a  foot ; 
whose  ])Ooks  we  had  never  read ;  to  whose  ports 
we  never  traded ;  not  belonging  in  an  exact  sense 
to  the  circle  of  independent  states ;  a  province, 
rather,  of  an  empire  which  alone  is  known  to 
international  law  and  to  our  own  diplomac}' ;  for 
this  nation  he  sought  pity,  the  intervention,  the 
armed  intervention,  the  material  aid  of  pity ;  and 
if  his  audiences  could  have  had  their  will,  he 
would  have  obtained  it,  without  mixture  or  meas- 
ure, to  his  heart's  content. 

"  When  shall  we  be  quite  certain  again  that  the 
lyre  of  Orpheus  did  not  kindle  the  savage  na- 
ture to  a  transient  discourse  of  reason,  —  did  not 
suspend  the  labors  and  oiiarm  the  pains  of  the 
damned,  —  did  not  lay  the  keeper  of  the  grave 
asleep,  and  win  back  Eurydice  from  the  world 
beyond  the  river,  to  the  warm  upper  air  ? 

"And  now  that  this  pilgrimage  of  romance  is 
ended,  the  harp  hushed,  the  minstrel  gone,  let  us 
pause  a  moment  and  attend  to  the  lessons  and 
gather  up  the  uses  of  the  unaccustomed  perform- 
ance." 


ii'i 


150 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


m\ 


A  few  pages,  taken  from  Mr.  Choate's  eulogy 
of  Daniel  Webster,  happily  illustrate  the  best  and 
most  endearing  elements  of  his  nature.  In  no 
other  relation,  no  other  phase  or  feature  of  his 
life  and  character,  however  brilliant  and  imposing, 
—  not  even  as  depicted  by  Mr.  Choate,  —  does 
Webster  appear  more  worthy  of  remembrance. 
Yet,  how  clear,  simple,  compact,  with  what  wealth 
of  thought  and  economy  of  words,  with  what 
freedom  from  rhetorical  ornament,  is  the  revela- 
tion made ! 

"  There  must  be  added  next,  tlie  element  of  an 
impressive  character,  inspiring  regard,  trust,  and 
admiration,  not  unmingled  \vilh  love.  It  had,  I 
think,  intrinsically  a  cliurm  such  as  belongs  only 
to  a  good,  noble,  and  beautiful  nature.  In  its 
combination  with  so  much  fame,  so  much  force  of 
will,  and  so  much  intellect,  it  filled  tuid  fascinated 
the  imagination  and  heart.  It  was  affectionate  in 
childhood  and  youth,  and  it  was  more  than  ever 
so  in  the  few  last  months   of   liis   lony:   life.     It 

O 

is  the  universal  testimony  that  he  gave  to  his 
parents,  in  largest  measure,  honor,  love,  obe- 
dience ;  that  he  eagerly  appropriated  the  first 
means  which  he  could  connnand  to  relieve  the 
father  from  the  debts  contracted  to  educate  his 
brother  and  himself ;  that  he  selected  his  fi  rst 
place  of  professional  practice  that  he  might  soothe 


I 


EULOGY  OF   WEBSTER. 


151 


the  comiiifi;  on  of  bis  old  age  ;  that  all  through 
life  he  iienlected  no  oecasion  —  sometimes  when 
leanmg  on  the  nrm  of  a  friend,  alone,  with  falter- 
ing voice,  sometimes  in  the  presence  of  great  as- 
seml)lies.  where  the  tide  of  general  emotion  made 
it  graceful  —  to  express  his  '  affectionate  venera- 
tion of  him  who  reared  and  defended  tlie  log 
cal)in  in  which  his  elder  brothers  and  sisters  were 
born,  a'j-iiinst  savaiji:e  violence  and  destruction, 
cherished  all  the  domestic  virtues  beneatli  its 
roof,  and,  through  the  fire  and  blood  of  some 
years  of  lievolutionary  War,  shrank  from  no  dan- 
ger, no  toil,  no  sacrifice,  to  serve  his  country,  and 
to  raise  his  children  to  a  condition  better  than  his 
own.' 

*'  Equally  beautiful  w-as  his  love  of  all  his  kin- 
dred and  of  all  his  friends.  When  I  hear  him  ac- 
'iiised  of  selfishness,  and  a  cold,  bad  nature,  I  re- 
call him  lying  sleepless  all  night,  not  without 
tears  of  boyhood,  conferring  with  Ezekiel  how  the 
darling  desire  of  both  hearts  should  be  compassed, 
and  he,  too,  admitted  to  the  precious  privileges 
of  education  ;  courageously  j^jleading  the  cause  of 
both  brothers  in  the  morning  ;  prevjuling  by  the 
wise  and  discerning  affection  of  the  mother;  sus- 
pending his  studies  of  the  law,  and  registering 
deeds  and  teaching  school  to  earn  the  means, for 
both,  of    availing  themselves  of    the  opportunity 


ii' 


m 


152 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


which  the  parental  self-sacrifice  had  placed  witliin 
their  reach  ;  loving  him  through  life,  mourning 
him  when  dead,  ^Yith  a  love,  and  a  sorrow  very 
wonderful,  passing  the  sorrow  of  woman  ;  I  rectdl 
the  husband,  the  father  of  the  living  and  of  the 
early  departed,  the  friend,  the  coimselor  of  many 
years,  and  my  heart  grows  too  full  and  liquid  for 
the  refutation  of  words. 

"  His  afi'ectionate  nature,  craving  ever  friend- 
ship as  well  as  the  presence  of  kindred  blood,  dif- 
fused itself  through  all  his  private  life,  gave  sin- 
cerity to  all  his  hospitalities,  kindness  to  his  eye, 
w^armth  to  the  pressure  of  his  hand  ;  made  his 
greatness  and  genius  unbend  themsevles  to  the 
playfulness  of  childhood,  flowed  out  in  graceful 
memories  indulged  of  the  past  of  the  dead,  of  in- 
cidents when  life  was  young  and  promised  to  be 
happy,  —  gave  generous  sketches  of  his  rivals,  — 
the  high  contention  now  hidden  hy  the  handful  of 
earth,  —  hours  passed  fifty  years  ago  with  great 
authors,  recalled  for  the  vernal  emotions  which 
then  they  made  to  live  and  revel  in  the  soul. 
And  from  these  conversations  of  friendship,  no 
man  —  no  man,  old  or  young,  went  away  to  re- 
member one  word  of  profaneness,  one  allusion  of 
mdelicacy,  one  impure  thought,  one  unbelieving 
suggestion  ;  one  doubt  cast  on  the  reality  of  vir- 
tue, of  patriotism,  of  enthusiasm,  of  the  progress 


^. 


i 


EULOGY  OF  WEBSTER. 


153 


of  man,  —  one  doubt   cast  on  the  righteousness, 
or  temperance,  or  judgment  to  come. 

'"  Every  one  of  his  tastes  and  recreations  an- 
nounced the  same  type  of  character.  Ilis  love  of 
agriculture,  of  sports  in  the  open  air,  of  the  out- 
ward workl  in  starhght  and  storms,  and  sea  and 
boundless  wilderness,  —  partly  a  result  of  the  in- 
fluences of  the  first  fourteen  years  of  his  life,  per- 
petuated like  its  other  affections  and  its  other  les- 
sons of  a  mother's  love,  —  the  Psalms,  the  Bible, 
the  stories  of  the  wars,  —  partly  the  return  of  an 
unsophisticated  and  healthful  nature,  tiring,  for 
a  space,  of  the  idle  business  of  political  life,  its 
distinctions,  its  artificialities,  to  emploj-ments,  to 
sensations  which  interest  without  agitating  the 
universal  race  alike,  as  God  has  framed  it,  in 
which  one  feels  hiuiself  only. a  man,  fashioned 
from  the  earth,  set  to  till  it,  appointed  to  return 
to  it,  yet  made  in  the  image  of  his  Maker,  and 
with  a  spirit  that  shall  not  die,  —  all  displayed  a 
man  whom  the  most  various  intercourse  with  the 
world,  the  longest  career  of  strife  and  honors,  the 
consciousness  of  intellectual  supremacy,  the  com- 
ing in  of  a  wide  fame,  constantly  enlarging,  left, 
as  he  was  at  first,  natural,  simple,  manly,  genial, 
kind. 

"  I  have  learned  by  evidence,  the  most  direct 
and  satisfactory,  that  m  the  last  months  of  his  life, 


irTwiif^ 

1 

" 

,! : 

■  (     J 

Wr- 


'  '    :i. 


1! 

ll 
■         ^, 

■    'i 

v. 

■  1 

i,;  ; 

; 

154 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


the  whole  aU'ectionatcness  of  his  nature,  his  con- 
sideration of  others,  his  gentleness,  his  desire  to 
make  them  happy  and  to  see  them  happy,  seemed 
to  come  out  ii.  more  and  more  lieautiful  and  habit- 
ual expression  thnn  ever  before.  The  long  day's 
pul)lic  tasks  were  felt  to  be  done  ;  the  cares,  the 
uncertainties,  the  mental  contlicts  of  high  places 
were  ended  ;  and  he  came  home  to  recover  him- 
self for  the  few  years  which  he  might  still  expect 
would  be  his  Ijefore  he  should  go  hence  to  be  hero 
no  more.  And  there,  I  am  assured  and  fullv  be- 
lieve,  no  unbecoming  regrets  pursued  \m\\ ;  no  dis- 
content, as  for  injustice  suffered  or  expectations 
unfulfilled  ;  no  self-reproach  for  anything  done  or 
anything  omitted  by  himself;  no  irr'tation,  no 
peevishness  unworthy  of  his  noble  nature ;  but  in- 
stead, love  and  hope  for  his  country,  when  she 
became  the  subject  of  conversation,  and  for  all 
around  him,  the  dearest  and  most  indifferent,  for 
all  breathing  things  about  him,  the  overflow  of 
the  kindest  heart  o-rowinsx  in  o-entleness  and  be- 
nevolence  ;  paternal,  patriarchal  alTections"  seem- 
ing to  beconi(3  more  natural,  warm,  and  commu- 
nicative every  hour.  Softer  and  yet  brighter 
grew  the  tints  on  the  sky  of  parting  day ;  and  the 
last  lingering  rays,  more  even  than  the  glories 
of  noon,  announced  how  divine  was  the  source 
from  which   they  proceeded ;   how   incapable   to 


A    CHARACTER    TO  BE  LOVED. 


155 


be  qucncliod ;  how  certain  to  rise  on  a  morning 
which  no  night  should  follow. 

''  Such  a  character  was  made  to  be  loved.  It 
was  loved.  Those  who  knew  and  saw  it  in  its 
hour  of  calm  —  those  who  could  repose  on  that 
soft  green  —  loved  him.  His  plain  neighbors 
loved  him  ;  and  one  said,  when  he  was  laid  in  his 
grave,  '  How  lonesome  the  world  seems !  '  Edu- 
cated young  men  loved  him.  The  ministers  of 
the  gospel;  the  general  intelligence  of  the  coun- 
try, the  masses  afar  off  loved  him.  True,  they 
had  not  found  in  his  speeches,  read  by  millions, 
so  much  adulation  of  the  people ;  so  much  of  the 
music  which  robs  the  public  reason  of  itself ;  so 
many  phrases  of  humanity  and  philanthropy ;  and 
some  had  told  them  he  was  lofty  and  cold,  — 
solitary  in  his  greatness ;  Ijut  every  year  they 
came  nearer  and  nearer  to  him,  and,  as  they  came 
nearer,  they  loved  him  better ;  the}"  heard  how 
tender  the  son  had  been,  the  husband,  the  brother, 
the  father,  the  friend,  and  neighbor ;  that  lie  was 
plain,  simple,  natural,  generous,  hospitable,  —  the 
heart  laruer  than  the  brain  ;  that  he  loved  little 
children  and  reverenced  God,  the  Scriptures,  the 
Sabbath  day,  the  Constitution,  and  the  law,  —  and 
their  hearts  clave  unto  him.  More  truly  of  him 
than  even  of  the  great  naval  darling  of  England 
might  it  be  said,  that  '  His  presence  would  set  the 


HI 


^'ifl 


i 


I " 


ii 


:i»i  .; 


1  i  ;  is 


15G 


MTuM DRIES   OF  RUFUS  CTIOATE. 


clmrcli-bolls  ringing,  and  give  8cliool-])oys  a  holi- 
day,—  Avould  bring  children  from  school  and  old 
men  from  the  chimney-corner  to  gaze  on  him  ere 
he  died.'  The  great  and  imavailing  lamentation 
first  revealed  the  deep  place  he  had  in  the  hearts 
of  his  countrymen." 


m 


ill 
liii; 


ink 


Mi' 


H:= 


1-  '•!  ;. 


ii' 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Preparation  for  Service  in  Congress.  —  Riuik  and  Arccptancc. 
—  Lost  Speeches.  —  Annexation  of  Toxa;-.  —  Tlio  Tariil'. — 
Home  Indnstry  and  tlio  Moclianioal  Arts.  —  Progress.— 
Concurrent  Views  of  Otlier  Statesmen. 

The  minuteness  of  investigation  .shown  in  Mr. 
Choate's  professional  and  classical  studies  entered 
into  bis  preparatory  work  as  a  statesman.  On  his 
election  to  the  lower  House  of  Congress  in  1830, 
and  to  the  Senate  in  1841,  he  took  up  critically 
the  great  questions  winch  it  was  expected  might 
require  legislative  attention.  Few  members,  cer- 
tainly no  new  members,  could  have  trusted  more 
safely  to  the  information  already  possessed,  and 
to  the  inspirations  of  the  hour  in  debate.  But  a 
conscientious  roirard  for  tlie  duties  to  Ije  dis- 
charged,  and  a  cultivated  indisposition  to  take 
that  for  granted  which  could  be  proved,  led  him 
to  an  extended  course  of  study,  and  to  its  faithful 
continuance  as  other  questions  afterwards  arose. 

The  services  of  Mr.  Choate  in  the  Senate  would 
seem  to  have  been  more  important  than  those 
rendered  in  the  House  of  Representatives.  This 
may  be  owing,  in  part,  to  the  nature  of  the  sub- 


''l 


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WSBST«K  !".'.  14580 

(716)  372-4503 


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1 4 


158 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


jects  considered,  and,  in  part,  to  the  better  pres- 
ervation of  his  later  speeches.  But  many  of  his 
arguments  were  not  preserved.  The  reiterated  re- 
quest in  the  "  Globe,"  that  members  would  write 
out  their  speeches,  had  little  effect  on  him.  The 
Hon.  Alexander  H.  Stephens  recently  wrote  out 
from  memory  the  concluding  part  of  one  of  Mr. 
Choate's  speeches  which  had  not  appeared  in  the 
"  Globe."  Professor  Brown,  always  exact  in  his 
statements,  says,  "  Those  who  heard  Mr.  Choate's 
speech  in  favor  of  the  confirmation  of  Mr.  Ever- 
ett as  Minister  to  England  considered  it  one  of 
the  most  brilliant  ever  delivered  within  the  Sen- 
ate chamber."  So,  too,  one  of  the  regents  of 
the  Smithsonian  Institution  said  that  Mr.  Choate's 
speech  before  the  Board  against  a  departure  from 
the  library-plan  "  was  the  most  beautiful  that 
ever  fell  from  human  lips."  Yet  we  have  noth- 
ing of  these  speeches,  nothing  of  some  other 
speeches  equally  commended. 

We  may  well  treasure  up  what  remains.  His 
contributions  to  the  discussion  of  questions,  then 
of  grave  public  concern,  are  so  rich  and  generous, 
rise  so  far  "  above  the  penury  of  mere  debate," 
that  they  may  be  read  witli  Interest  by  those 
whose  preconceived  notions  differ  from  his  views, 
and  with  gratitude  by  those  who  find  their  cher- 
ished opinions  illustrated  and  confirmed. 


THE   QUALITIES  OF  A   STATESMAN. 


159 


I  have  to  confess  that  my  early  estimate  of  Mr. 
Choate  as  a  statesman  has  kindled  into  admiration 
with  the  occasional  reading  of  the  debates  in  which 
he  took  part.  It  was  not  merely,  or  mainly,  that 
from  the  day  he  was  first  heard  in  either  House 
he  was  regarded  as  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  front 
rank  of  the  distinguished  men  with  whom  he 
served  ;  that  no  imperious  member  of  either  party 
saw  in  him  the  mere  lawyer,  indulging  in  a  style 
peculiar  to  another  forum,  and  so,  after  the  man- 
ner of  Pitt  towards  Erskine,  disdained  to  reply  ; 
that,  under  his  mode  of  treatment,  subjects  worn 
out  in  debate  awakened  new  interest ;  or  that  his 
views  were  presented  with  such  zeal  and  power 
as  to  encourage  his  friends,  with  such  grace  and 
courtesy  as  almost  to  persuade  his  opponents  ;  but, 
also  and  especially,  that  he  possessed  and  exempli- 
fied the  sagacity,  prudence,  judgment,  and  conti- 
nence proper  to  the  statesman,  and  the  devotion 
which  proved  the  strength  and  the  piu'ity  of  his 
patriotism. 

He  went  into  the  Senate  with  reluctance  ;  he 
withdrew  from  it  as  soon  as  he  could  do  so  con- 
sistently. But,  during  his  short  term  of  service, 
questions  of  special  diiiiculty  and  importance  came 
up  for  consideration.  Without  undertaking  to 
follow  him  throughout  his  labors,  —  the  reports 
before  me  forbid  that,  and  many  of  the  subjects 


I  «' 


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160 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


:|! 


I'    \ 


I 

I 


have  long  been  at  rest,  —  I  propose  to  notice  his 
attitude  in  respect  to  some  of  the  topics  to  which 
he  gave  special  attention. 

It  may  be  observed  that  those  who  think  that 
Mr.  Choate  erred  in  opposing  the  annexation  of 
Texas  should  consider  his  position  at  the  time, 
and  seek  to  distinguish  what  might  possibly  have 
been  foreseen  from  what  could  be  learned  only  by 
a  later  experience.  If  he  erred,  it  is  proper  to 
remember  tHat  Henry  Clay,  Martin  Van  Buren, 
and  Silas  Wright  erred  with  him.  His  views  were 
clouded  and  his  zeal  inflamed  by  no  personal  con- 
siderations. He  sought  no  promotion,  could  suffer 
no  loss  but  such  as  the  country  might  also  suffer. 
Mr.  Van  Buren  failed  to  receive  a  nomination  for 
the  presidential  office  and  Mr.  Clay  lost  his  chance 
of  an  election  to  it  by  opposing  that  annexation. 
Mr.  Wright  was  constrained  to  decline  a  nomina- 
tion for  the  office  of  vice-president,  as  its  accept- 
ance would  have  implied  a  difference  of  opinion 
between  his  friend,  Mr.  Van  Buren,  and  himself 
on  that  subject.  In  his  "  Thirty  Years'  View,"  Mr. 
Benton  attempts  to  show  that,  by  the  manage- 
ment of  the  friends  of  annexation,  Mr.  Webster 
was  forced  to  retire  from  the  cabinet  of  President 
Tyler,  as  his  presence  there  was  a  hindrance  to 
the  negotiation.  That  those  statesmen  had  con- 
sidered the  question  with  great  solicitude  none 


DISCRIMINATION   TO  PROTECT  LABOR.      161 

can  doubt.  To  finite  apprehension,  the  evils  to 
flow  from  that  scheme,  —  war  with  Mexico,  and 
a  larger  voluntary  surrender  to  slavery,  —  were 
imminent  and  certain  ;  the  benefits,  —  Texas  and 
California,  free  and  contributing  to  the  wealth 
and  stability  of  the  Republic,  —  were  remote  and 
uncertain. 

An  equal  degree  of  respect,  and  perhaps  on 
more  specific  grounds,  is  due  to  Mr.  Choate's  po- 
sition on  the  question  of  protecting  American  la- 
bor. The  expedient  of  providing  the  means  nec- 
essary to  defray  the  expenses  of  tl: o  government 
by  imposing  duties  on  imports,  a  mode  of  indirect 
taxation,  having  been  adopted  at  an  early  day, 
questions  as  to  the  rates  of  duties  to  be  fixed 
with  regard  to  the  wants  of  the  government,  act- 
ual and  prospective,  and  to  the  encouragement  or 
protection  of  our  manufacturers,  vexed  the  na- 
tional councils  under  almost  every  administration. 
That  was  due  to  the  fact  that,  for  either  purpose, 
the  rate  of  duties  fluctuated  with  the  change  of 
circumstances,  and  to  the  further  fact  that  many 
able  and  judicious  men  regarded  legislation  de- 
signed to  stimulate  special  branches  of  industry 
into  artificial  activity  as  neither  politic  nor  wise. 

In  March,  1842,  Mr.  Choate  addressed  an  argu- 
ment to  the  Senate  to  show  that,  in  assessing  the 
duties  which  were  to  yield  the  desired  income, 
11 


•'» ! 


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162 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


Congress  could  discriminate  for  the  protection  of 
labor.  He  faithfully  collated  the  proofs  drawn 
from  many  sources,  and  built  up  and  fortified  an 
argument,  legal  and  historical,  which  those  who 
agree  with  him  can  find  little  occasion  to  extend 
or  modify.  But,  going  beyond  the  mere  question 
of  power,  he  sought,  by  subtile  and  delicate  in- 
ferences and  suggestions,  to  reconcile  his  hearers 
to  the  policy  of  protection.  He  appealed  to  the 
past,  to  the  maxims  of  statesmen,  and  gracefully 
referred  to  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Madison. 

It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  our  commerce  with 
foreign  nations  may  be  regulated  by  imposing 
such  restraints  upon  the  products  of  foreign  labor 
brought  here  as  may  promote  our  interests.  That 
power  has  often  been  exeicised.  All  that  re- 
mained, after  Mr.  Choate's  exposition,  was  the  in- 
quiry whether  the  policy  which  had  led  to  the 
exertion  of  that  power  for  the  encouragement  of 
our  manufacturers  should  be  continued,  and,  if  so, 
to  what  extent. 

Mr.  Choate  took  up  that  question,  in  some  of 
its  aspects,  'n  April,  1844,  when  opposing  a  bill 
hostile  to  the  theory  of  protection.*  As  a  friend 
of  that  theory,  he  was  on  the  defensive  ;  and  it 
must  be  assumed  that  he  spoke  from  his  knowl- 
edge of  our  manufacturing  interests,  and  of  the 

1  Globe,  Appendix,  p.  641. 


HOSTILITY  TO  THE  THEORY  OF  PROTECTIOX.     163 

consequences  which  might  flow  from  a  sudden 
withdrawal  of  the  protection  given  them.  He 
opened  his  argument  by  chiiming  that  the  mat- 
ter of  protection  was  not  an  open  question  except 
as  to  the  details,  the  rates  of  duties  to  be  im- 
posed ;  declaring,  however,  that  "  When  the  lights 
of  a  fuH  and  fair  experience  prescribe  tlie  change 
of  a  duty,  it  is  to  be  changed."  He  says,  "  And 
why  not  open  ?  Because,  Sir,  I  find  such  a  sys- 
tem of  protection  in  operation  dcjiire  and  de  facto 
to-day ;  because  I  know  perfectly  well,  or  all  our 
annals  are  a  dream  and  a  lie,  that  the  American 
people  established  the  Constitution  and  the  Union 
very  much  to  insure  the  maintenance  of  such  a 
system  ;  because  it  has  been  slowly  maturing  for 
years ;  because  so  large  a  concurrence  of  patriot- 
ism, intelligence,  and  experience  has  helped  to 
build  it  up ;  because,  whether  it  was  wise  or  un- 
wise to  introduce  such  a  system  by  direct  legisla- 
tion at  first,  it  would  be  supreme  madness  now, 
now  when  the  first  stages  are  past,  when  the  evil, 
if  any  there  ever  was,  is  all  done,  and  the  com- 
pensations of  good  are  just  fairly  comincncing, 
when  capital  has  taken  this  direction,  when  prices 
are  brought  down,  skill  learned,  habits  formed, 
machinery  accumulated,  and  the  whole  scheme  of 
things  accommodated  to  it,  when  its  propitious  in- 
fluence is  felt  palpably  upon  agriculture,  upon  the 


1! 


164 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


comfort  and  the  standing  of  labor,  upon  domestic 
and  foreign  trade,  upon  defense,  upon  independ- 
ence, —  it  would  be  supreme  madness,  worthy 
only  of  a  government  nodding  to  its  fall,  now  to 
overturn  it ;  because,  finally,  it  is  the  daily  labor 
and  the  daily  bread  of  men,  women,  and  children, 
our  countrymen  and  countrywomen,  whom  we 
reckon  by  millions." 

He  then  goes  into  particulars,  and  amplifies  the 
proofs,  the  inference,  the  illustrations,  but  only  to 
establish  the  thesis  laid  down  at  the  opening  of 
his  speech.  A  few  specific  references  may  suffice 
to  show  how,  by  appeals  to  the  rise  and  progress 
of  our  manufactures,  and  to  the  history  of  our 
legislation,  he  seeks  to  defeat  the  bill  in  ques- 
tion. 

After  having  shown  that  the  people,  from  the 
first,  had  sought  to  be  relieved  from  competition 
with  foreign  labor,  that  the  early  acts  of  Congress 
granted  that  protection,  according  to  the  condition 
of  our  manufacturing  interests,  he  says,  "And 
now  we  are  prepared  to  compare  or  to  contrast 
with  tliis  the  second  system  —  the  existing  system 
—  that  which  began  in  1816  and  was  matured  in 
1824  and  1828.  Sir,  it  is  exactly  the  system  of 
1789,  accommodated  to  the  altered  circumstances 
of  the  nation  and  the  world.  The  statesmen  of 
the  last  period  followed  in  the  very  footsteps  of 


PROGRESS  OF  MECHANIC  ARTS. 


1G5 


their  fathers.  Tlie  Congress  of  1789  found  many 
manfacturing  and  mechanical  arts  starting  to  life, 
and  soliciting  to  be  protected.  The  Congress  of 
1816  and  that  of  1824  found  families  and  groups 
and  classes  of  manufacturing  and  mechanical  arts, 
far  more  numerous,  far  more  valuable,  far  more 
sensible  also,  and  with  more  urgent  claims,  so- 
liciting protection.  In  the  interval  between  1789 
and  1810,  this  whole  enterprise  had  not  only  im- 
mensely enhanced  its  value  but  had  totally  changed 
its  nature.  Instead  of  a  few  plain,  hardy,  coarse, 
simple,  household  employments,  it  had  become  a 
various,  refined,  sensitive  industry  —  demanding 
associated  capital,  skill  long  and  highly  trained, 
costly  and  improving  machinery  —  more  precious, 
but  presenting  a  far  broader  mark  to  the  slings 
and  arrows  of  fortune,  to  hostility,  to  change,  to 
the  hotter  foreign  competitions  which  its  growth 
is  sure  to  provoke.  Now  you  all  praise  the  hus- 
bandry of  1789,  which  so  carefully  guarded  the 
few  blades  just  timidly  peeping  forth  in  the  rain 
and  sunshine  of  that  April  day,  hardly  worth  the 
treading  down;  will  you  depreciate  the  husbandry 
of  1824,  which,  with  the  same  solicitude,  but  at 
the  expense  o^  a  higher  wall,  guarded  the  grain, 
then  half-grown,  and  evincing  what  the  harvest 
was  to  be  ?  " 

By  way  of  showing  the  influence  of  the  pro- 


■, 


M 


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it 


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t  HI 


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166 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  CIIOATR. 


tcctive  policy,  and  how,  gradually  thus  fostered, 
our  manufactures  had  crept  into  existence,  he 
states  some  interesting  facts  drawn  from  the  high- 
est authority.  Thus,  that  in  1789  there  was  not 
a  cotton  spindle  in  the  United  States ;  that  in 
1805  and  1806  there  were  only  5,000;  in  1810, 
80,000  ;  that  the  first  cotton  mill  was  erected  in 
Rhode  Island  in  1791,  another  in  1795,  and  two 
more  in  Massachusetts  in  1803-04  ;  and  that  dur- 
ing the  next  three  years  ten  more  were  erected 
or  commenced  in  Rhode  Island,  and  one  in  Con- 
necticut. 

In  his  desire  to  elevate  his  subject  above  the 
mere  counting  of  factories  and  spindles,  he  says, 
"  The  real  truth  is.  Sir,  that  manufacturing  and 
mechanical  and  commercial  industry  is  '  the  pro- 
lific source  of  democratic  feeling.'  Of  the  two 
great  elements  which  must  be  combined  in  all 
greatness  of  national  character  and  national  des- 
tiny —  permanence  and  progression  —  these  em- 
ployments stimulate  the  latter ;  agriculture  con- 
tributes to  the  former.  They  are  of  those  acting 
and  counteracting,  opposing  yet  not  discordant, 
powers,  from  whose  reciprocal  struggle  is  drawn 
out  the  harmony  of  the  universe." 

He  invokes  the  prudence  of  the  Senate  thus : 
"  Sir,  let  me  respectfully  recommend  cautious  and 
delicate  handling  of  these  interests.     Vast,  vari- 


INFLUENCE  OF  CIRCUMSTANCES. 


1G7 


ous,  prosperous  as  they  are,  a  l)reath  can  unmake 
them  as  a  breath  has  made.  This  bill  strikes  a 
blow,  the  extent,  degree,  and  nature  of  whose 
injurious  eflects  no  man  can  foresee  or  limit  or 
cure.  That  which  you  certainly  do  mean  to  do 
involves  consequences  which  you  certainly  do  not 
mean.  You  begin  by  saying  profits  are  too  high. 
Then  you  propose  to  reduce  profits.  You  begin 
by  saying  more  foreign  manufactures  must  be 
imported,  because  you  propose  to  increase  reve- 
nue by  reducing  duties.  This  demands,  of  course, 
enlarged  importation.  To  that  extent,  to  a  new 
and  undefined  extent,  you  displace,  disturb,  di- 
minish the  domestic  market  of  your  own  manu- 
factures. But  can  you  really  strike  down  the 
general  profits  and  break  up  the  actual  market  of 
American  labor  and  yet  leave  it  prosperous,  re- 
warded, and  contented  ?  " 

I  have  thought  that,  if  called  upon  to  consider 
the  policy  of  such  legislation  when  first  proposed, 
Mr.  Choate  would  not  have  favored  the  theory 
of  protection.  The  conservative  character  of  his 
mind,  his  respect  for  principles,  for  system,  as 
contrasted  with  mere  expedients,  might  have  held 
him  in  restraint.  But  his  relation  to  the  matter 
came  later  and  in  quite  another  form.  As  he 
looked  back,  he  saw  that  the  legislation  which 
began  and  continued  that  policy  had  been  favored 


<T 


i 


if 


i  i 


168 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


I 


by  statesmen  whoso  wisdom  and  fidelity  he  luid 
always  held  in  reverence.  As  he  looked  round 
him  he  saw  that  the  growth  of  the  mechanic  arts 
was  the  life  of  New  England,  that  rough  and 
barren  places  and  lonely  waterfalls  had  been  made 
prorital)le,  and  that  the  inventive  genius  of  the 
people  had  been  urged  forward  to  countless  im- 
provements. So  it  was  that,  in  representing  his 
State  and  in  studying  the  interests  of  other  States, 
he  had  been  brought  to  believe  that  the  arts, 
thus  nursed  into  life,  should  be  preserved.  lie 
accepted  the  reasons  for  protecting  them  given  by 
statesmen  of  181G  and  1824,  and  declared  that, 
"  after  the  evil  is  done  and  the  good  is  beginning," 
it  would  be  unwise  to  let  them  die. 

He  finds  consolation  in  the  fact  that  his  own 
State  had  not  helped  to  adopt  protection.  Thus 
he  says  to  Senators,  "  Consider  that  Massachusetts 
never  made  a  protective  tariff ;  that  she  took  no 
leading  or  influenti^,!  part  in  1816  ;  that  she  op- 
posed that  of  1824  with  almost  her  entire  vote, 
and  with  great  zeal  and  ability ;  that  she  voted 
against  that  of  1828;  that  she  has  done  nothing 
but  just  to  stay  where  you  placed  her."  Then,  as 
a  few  passages  may  show,  he  clings  with  pride,  to 
the  further  credit  due  to  his  State.  "  Certainly, 
Sir,  we  are  very  much  in  these  employments. 
You  may  thank  yourselves  for  that.    And  is  it  not 


)h 


A    rilEORY  ARTIFICIAL   AND    UXSTATirK.     109 

nn  oxct'llciit  tliiii«(  for  voii  tluit  wo  are  ?  Are  wo 
not  Ji  very  iiiucli  more  ust'ful  iiu'iiihi'r  of  llie  jmrt- 
nersliip,  more  ust-fiil  to  tlie  other  partners,  timu 
we  could  he  without  ?  Is  it  not  a  jj^ood.  Iionest, 
genial,  social,  'live  and  let  live'  nort  of  husines.s 
yon  have  driven  us  into?"  ''Is  it  nothin^^  that  we 
take  and  consume,  within  that  single  State,  an  an- 
nual amount  of  more  laan  forty  milli(»ns  of  doUar.s 
of  your  pro(lu('tions?"  "  Is  it  not  a  truly  national 
business  which  wr  au'suo  ;  ni^'ional  ni  the  surface 
it  spreads  over;  nation:  '  in  the  good  it  does  ;  na- 
tional in  the  alfectioii-s  it  generates?"  "  Yes,  Sir' 
Manufacturers  and  mecb'inics  are  unionists  by  pro- 
fession; unionists  hy  necessity;  unintiists  always. 
Learn  to  know  your  friends.  The  time  may  come 
when  you  will  need  them." 

In  resisting  the  reduction  of  duties  in  so  far  as 
the  changes  might  have  brought  swift  and  certain 
ruin  to  manufacturers  who  had  been  making  large 
investments  on  the  faith  of  what  seemed  to  be  the 
policy  of  our  government,  Mr.  Clioate  was  invok- 
ing the  spirit  of  deliberation  which  should  attend 
legislative  reforms.  It  seems  to  me  that  many  of 
those  who  could  not  accept  his  views  as  to  the  in- 
fluence of  such  protection  upon  American  l.d)or, 
or  as  to  the  inherent  merit  of  such  an  expedient, 
would  have  regarded  his  argument  with  respect 
if  not  with  favor.    But  in  practice,  such  protection 


Ii '  I 


«l 


■t    'k 


i,'. 


111 


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1\  \t 


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i 


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170 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


■  lid 


admits  of  neither  stability,  uniformity,  nor  repose. 
It  is  one  of  those  artificial  devices  which,  in  varied 
forms,  return  to  plague  the  inventors.  When  Mr. 
Choate  claimed  that  the  existing  duties  should  be 
continued,  the  manufacturers  may  have  needed 
that  protection.  They  have  little  need  of  it  now. 
What  they  need  is  a  market  for  their  commodities. 
The  transition  from  one  want  to  the  other  is  the 
natural  result  of  a  policy  which  gave  an  artificial 
stimulus  to  home  industry,  but  discouraged  the 
exchange  of  the  fruits  of  our  labor  for  foreign 
products.  It  is  quite  obvious  that  no  tariff 
has  benefited  the  Southern  States  or  helped  our 
agricultural  or  commerical  interests.  When  Mr. 
Choate  spoke  of  New  York  as  "  a  city  which  with 
one  hand  grasps  the  golden  harvests  of  the  West, 
and  with  the  other,  like  Venice,  espouses  the  ever- 
lasting sea,"  he  indicates  how  necessary  a  liberal 
foreign  commerce  was  to  her  prosperity.  But  it 
is  well  to  remember  that  Mr.  Choate  was  not 
peculiar  in  his  views  upon  this  subject.  Under 
claims  less  urgent  than  those  of  his  constituents, 
other  distinguished  statesmen  have  thought  and 
voted  as  he  did.  In  instances,  not  to  be  briefly 
enumerated,  protection  of  specific  articles  has  been 
claimed  by  those  not  friendly  to  the  theory  in  its 
extended  application.  Thus,  for  example,  Silas 
Wri":ht  wished   the   duties    increased   on   coarse 


.ill! 


MR.  MURPHY  ON  LEGISLATIVE  REFORMS.    171 

wool,  Thomas  II.  Benton  on  lead  and  indigo.  In 
1842,  Mr.  Wright  voted  for  a  protective  tariff, 
after  having  sought  to  amend  the  bill,  —  that  be- 
ing the  only  mode  in  which  the  government  could 
raise  the  needful  revenue.  Mr.  Benton  voted  for 
the  protective  tariffs  of  1824,  1828,  and  18-32,  and 
in  the  debates  in  1844  declared  himself,  willinn;  to 
give  protection  to  manufacturers.  In  the  Con- 
gress of  1844,  Henry  C.  Murphy  gave  an  exposi- 
tion of  the  principles  which,  as  he  thought,  should 
be  respected  in  framing  a  tariff.^  He  believed  in 
a  tariff'  for  revenue,  with  such  incidental  protec- 
tion as  could  be  given  alike  to  all  sections  of  the 
country,  —  his  conception  of  free  trade,  —  and  by 
a  strong  array  of  facts  and  illustrations  sought  to 
show  that  the  existing  tariff  imposed  higher  du- 
ties on  some  articles  used  by  the  poor  than  on 
those  used  by  the  rich,  and  in  several  respects 
was  sectional  and  oppressive. 

Mr.  Murphy  and  Mr.  Choate  had  like  views  as 
to  the  spirit  which  .should  govern  legislative  re- 
forms. Mr.  Murphy,  who  was,  in  the  usual  ac- 
ceptation, an  anti-tariff  man,  says,  "  Onerous  and 
unjust  as  the  present  tariff  is,  partial  and  oppres- 
sive as  its  operation  is,  I  am  not  for  breaking 
down,  at  a  blow,  those  establishments  which  have 
been  brought  into  existence  and  kept  up  by  it; 

'  Globe,  Appendix,  p.  414. 


I-   !?; 


^  IP 


',  1 


.t  ? 


•M 


f!i 


M 


hf 


■'W 


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i    { 


172 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


for  extreme  change  in  laws  affecting  the  industry 
of  the  country  I  hold  to  be  frequently  as  unjust, 
both  to  labor  and  to  capital,  as  a  bad  law  which  is 
stable,  for  they  may  be  accommodated  to  it.  We 
should,  therefore,  proceed  in  this,  as  in  other  meas- 
ures of  reform,  gradually,  and  with  a  due  regard 
to  the  interests  which  we  have  nurtured." 

The  imposition  of  duties  on  imports  to  the  ex- 
tent necessary  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  gov- 
ernment gives  protection  to  the  manufacturers. 
It  may,  as  an  incident,  benefit  labor  skilled  in  the 
mechanic  arts.  But  the  benefits  do  not  reach  the 
laborers  who  clear  the  forest  and  till  the  soil,  who 
dig  the  canals,  make  the  roads  and  bridges,  open 
the  quarries  and  build  our  cities.  Such  limitations 
must  exist.  But,  if  we  have  a  tariff,  we  can  say, 
with  Mr.  Choate,  that  when  the  lights  of  a  full 
and  fair  experience  prescribe  the  change  of  a 
duty,  it  is  to  be  changed. 


Ill 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Indictment  of  McLeod.  —  The  Rule  o'  Immunity  suggested 
by  Mr.  Fox.  —  The  Course  pursued  by  the  Secretary  of 
State.  —  Debates  in  Concjress.  —  Defense  of  IMr.  AVebster. 
—  Trial  of  McLeod.  —  Act  as  to  Remedial  Justice.  —  Other 
Questions  before  the  Senate.  — The  Bank.  —  Mr.  Clay's  In- 
terference in  Debate. 

Soon  after  Mr.  Choate  took  liis  scat  in  the  Sen- 
ate, he  had  occasion  to  defend  the  poHcy  of  Presi- 
dent Tyler's  administration  in  a  matter  of  national 
concern.  In  December,  1837,  diu'ing  the  disturb- 
ance in  Upper  Canada  commonly  called  tlie  Mac- 
kenzie Rebellion,  the  provincial  authorities  sent 
over  into  the  State  of  New  York  a  band  of  armed 
men,  by  whom  the  steamer  Caroline  was  de- 
stroyed, and  our  government  claimed  that  Great 
Britain  should  make  reparation.  In  1841,  Alex- 
ander McLeod,  a  British  subject,  was  indicted  in 
the  Court  of  Sessions  of  Niagara  County  for  the 
murder  of  Amos  Durfoe,  and  was  held  for  trial. 
Great  Britain  demanded  his  liberation.  Mr.  Fox, 
the  British  Minister,  in  his  notes  to  Mr.  Forsyth, 
the  Secretary  of  State  in  President  Van  Buren's 
administration,  and  to  Mr.  Webster,  as  such  Sec- 


h 


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lit 


174 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


retary  under  President  Tyler,  assuming  that  Mc- 
Leod  had  been  thus  indicted  and  held  as  one  of 
those  engaged  in  the  destruction  of  the  Caro- 
line, claimed  that,  as  that  was  the  public  act  of 
persons  obeying  the  order  of  their  superior  au- 
thorities, it  could  not  be  the  ground  of  legal  pro- 
ceedings against  one  of  them ;  a  theory  rejected 
by  Mr.  Forsyth,  but  accepted  by  Mr.  Webster. 

Great  attention  had  been,  and  continued  to  be, 
given  to  the  affair  of  the  Caroline  and  to  the  Mc- 
Leod  case,  in  both  Houses  of  Congress.  In  adopt- 
ing the  rule  of  personal  immunity  suggested  by 
Mr.  Fox,  and  by  his  letter  instructing  the  Attor- 
ney-General of  the  United  States  to  attend  the 
trial  of  McLcod  in  New  York,  and  confer  with  and 
advise  his  counsel,  Mr.  Webster  drew  down  upon 
himself  severe  and  prolonged  criticism.  Some 
able  lawyers  were  of  opinion  that  he  had  erred  in 
seeking  to  apply  that  rule  to  one  in  McLeod's 
situation.  Mr.  Calhoun  deliberately  stated  his 
objections  to  Mr.  Webster's  course  ;  Mr.  Benton 
fervently  criticised  and  denounced  it ;  and  Mr. 
Buchanan  took  an  early  and  impressive  part  in 
the  discussion.  It  was  in  answer  to  Mr.  Buchan- 
an's first  argument  on  the  subject  that  Mr.  Choate 
addressed  the  Senate  on  the  11th  of  June,  1841.^ 

After  some  preliminary  observations,  Mr.  Choate 

^  Glohe,  Appendix,  p.  417. 


RESPONSIBILITY  FOR  NATIONAL   CRIMES.     175 

stated  with  precision  the  ground  on  which,  and  on 
which  alone,  Mr.  Webster  had  recognized  the  rule 
in  question.  Thus  he  said,  "  What  is  the  conces- 
sion of  the  Secretary  of  State  ?  Why,  only  and 
exactly  this :  that  a  soldier  or  sailor,  —  de  facto 
such,  —  actually  engaged  in  a  military  or  naval 
enterprise  of  force,  under  the  authority,  in  obe- 
dience to  the  command  of  his  government,  and 
keeping  himself  within  the  scope  of  that  author- 
ity, is  not  guilty,  as  the  law  of  nations  is  adminis- 
tered to-day,  of  a  crime  against  the  municipal 
code  of  the  country  upon  which  he  thus  helps  to 
carry  on  war;  that  he  is  not  punishable  as  for 
such  crime  by  that  country  ;  and  that  the  respon- 
sibility rests  upon  his  own  government  alone  to 
answer,  as  nations  answer  for  their  crimes  to  their 
equals.  That  is  the  concession.  He  does  not  deal 
at  all  with  the  case  of  a  soldier  straggling  away 
from  his  colors  to  commit  a  solitary  and  sep- 
arate murder.  .He  does  not  deal  with  the  case 
of  alleged  excess  of  authority.  He  supposes  him 
to  obey  the  precise  directions  of  his  government, 
and,  so  doing,  he  declares  him  clothed  with  the 
personal  immunity."  "  If  you  turn  to  the  fourth 
page  of  his  letter,  you  may  see  that  the  murder 
for  which  he  supposes  McLeod  indicted  '  was  a 
murder  alleged  to  have  been  committed  in  the 
attack/  forming  an  inseparable,  very  painful  part 


n 


lit!' 


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'U 


II 

1  ■ : 

; '.  i 

■in 


III 


' 


176 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   C  HO  ATE. 


of  the  entire  military  violence  exerted  to  capture 
and  destroy  the  vessel,  and  not  succeeding  it.  For 
the  purpose  of  the  concession,  he  takes  as  true  the 
express  declaration  of  Mr.  Fox,  '  that  the  transac- 
tion on  account  of  which  Mr.  McLeod  has  been 
arrested  and  is  to  be  put  on  his  trial,'  including 
the  homicide  as  an  unavoidable  incident  in  it, '  was 
a  public  transaction  conducted  by  Her  Majesty's 
government.'  Such  is  the  concession.  I  have  the 
honor  to  submit,  first,  that  the  concession  is  right 
in  point  of  international  law,  and  then  that  it  was 
the  duty  of  the  Secretary  of  Sta  e  to  make  it,  and 
of  the  government  to  act  upon  it,  exactly  as  it 
was  made  and  acted  upon." 

Mr.  Choate  characterized  this  transaction  as  an 
act  of  war,  —  informal,  insolemn  hostility,  —  and, 
illustrating  his  subject  freely,  he  proceeded  to  an- 
swer some  points  of  special  difficulty  which  had 
been  presented  by  Mr.  Buchanan.  To  show  that 
no  war  need  be  preceded  by  a  declaration,  and 
that  the  rule  of  personal  exemption  from  liability 
as  for  crime  extends  to  actors  in  wars  of"  the  im- 
perfect sort,  reprisals  or  other  acts  of  hostility,  he 
cited  Rutherforth.  That  the  injustice  of  the  hos- 
tile attack  does  not  affect  the  soldier's  right  to  im- 
munity, and  that  no  distinction  is  made  between 
regular  soldiers  and  volunteers,  he  referred  to 
Rutherforth  and  to  Vattel. 


THE  MCLEOD  DEBATE. 


177 


Regarding  Riitherforth  as  an  authority  in  re- 
spect to  the  more  modern  theory,  and  wishing  to 
qualify  some  differences  between  him  and  an  older 
author,  Mr.  Choate  said,  ''  Grotius,  admirable  for 
his  genius,  his  studies,  his  most  enlarged  and  ex- 
cellent spirit,  lived  too  early  to  witness  the  full 
development  of  his  own  grand  principles,  and  the 
accomplishment  of  his  own  philanthropic  wishes. 
The  existing  law  of  nations  has  been  slowly  built 
up  since  his  time,  and  to  learn  it  we  must  have 
recourse  to  writers  far  his  inferiors  in  capacity 
and  learning,  but  fortunate  in  being  able  to  re- 
cord the  ameliorated  theory  and  practice  of  a  bet- 
ter day." 

In  defending  his  friend,  the  Secretary  of  State, 
Mr.  Choate  was  performing  a  delicate  service. 
With  what  prudence,  grace,  and  dignity  he  per- 
formed it,  his  principal  opponent  in  debate  ap- 
pears to  have  been  conscious.  In  his  reply,  Mr. 
Buchanan  said,  "  I  desire  to  pay  a  deserved  com- 
pliment both  to  the  argument  of  the  Senator  from 
Massachusetts,  Mr.  Choate,  and  to  the  feeling  dis- 
played by  him  throughout  his  remarks." 

Having  thus  called  attention  to  Mr.  Choate's 
relation  to  the  case  of  McLeod,  I  would  willingly 
refrain  from  further  reference  to  it.  But  as  some 
professional  interest,  not  perhaps  well-defined,  still 
attaches  to  that  case,  it  may  be  well  to  state  the 

12 


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11 


178 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


If 


ground   on  which,  as  I  conceive,  it  should  have 
been  placed  and  regarded  throughout. 

At  the  time  Mr.  Webster  wrote  his  note  to  Mr. 
Fox,  and  his  instructions  to  the  Attorney-General, 
this  troublesome  affair  was  before  the  country  in 
two  aspects ;  —  one,  as  to  the  breach  of  the  ami- 
cable relations  existing  between  the  two  govern- 
ments, a  fit  subject  for  diplomatic  discussion ;  the 
other,  as  to  the  guilt  of  McLeod,  charged  with  an 
offense  against  the  laws  of  the  State  of  New  York, 
a  question  of  which  the  courts  of  that  State  had 
taken  cognizance.  It  was  possil^le  that  these  two 
offenses,  apparently  so  unlike,  might  prove  to  be 
one  and  the  same ;  —  that  charged  against  the 
prisoner  merged  in  and  inseparable  from  the  other. 
But  no  presumption  to  that  effect  could  arise.  All 
the  facts  that  Mr.  Fox,  Sir  Francis  Bond  Head, 
and  Colonel  McNabb  could  lay  before  Mr.  Webster 
were  to  the  effect  that  the  destruction  of  the  Car- 
oline was  deemed  necessary  in  self-defense,  and 
was  therefore  within  the  scope  of  the  provincial 
authority ;  that  the  armed  men  by  whom  the 
vessel  was  destroyed  had  been  sent  over  on  that 
service  ;  and  that  the  act  had  been  approved  by 
the  home  government.  But  whether,  apart  from 
that  service,  McLeod  had  perpetrated  the  crime 
charged,  neither  Mr.  Fox,  Governor  Head,  nor 
Colonel  McNabb   could   say   anything.     Indeed, 


ERRONEOUS  INFORMATION. 


179 


the  note  in  which  Mr.  Fox  told  Mr.  Webster  that 
McLeod  had  been  charged  with  having  been  en- 
gaged in  tlio  capture  and  destruction  of  the  Caro- 
line—  the  death  of  Durfee  a  mere  incident  in  the 
attack  —  began  with  the  words,  '•I  am  informed." 
But  while  the  indictment  against  McLeod,  a  copy 
of  which  is  before  me,  has  counts  for  murder  and 
arson,  the  first  counts  charged  him  with  having 
killed  Durfee  ''feloniously,  wilfully,  with  malice 
aforethought,  and  with  premeditated  design."  In 
each  of  the  first  counts,  it  is  charged  that  the 
crime  was  committed  by  him  in  the  Town  and 
County  of  Niagara  ;  in  neither  of  them  is  any  ref- 
erence made  to  the  Caroline  affair.  It  is  obvious, 
therefore,  that  the  information  which  Mr.  Fox 
had  received,  and  on  which  he  stated  to  Mr.  Web- 
ster the  charge  supposed  to  have  been  made  against 
McLeod,  was  not  correct.  This  error  may  have 
arisen  from  the  fact  that  neither  Mr.  Fox  nor  any 
of  those  with  whom  he  had  conferred  had  ever 
read  the  indictment.  In  his  correspondence,  Mr. 
Webster  had  not  noticed  the  question  whether  Mc- 
Leod might  not  be  guilty,  quite  apart  from  the 
capture  of  the  vessel,  nor  had  that  question  been 
suggested  in  the  case  that  was  laid  before  him. 
Moreover,  there  is  reason  to  suppose  that  Webster 
himself  had  never  seen  that  indictment.  A  mem- 
ber of  Congress,  a  distinguished  jurist  and  states- 


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180 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


man,  while  defending  Mr.  Webster  as  warmly  as 
Mr.  Clioate  had  done,  declared  that  the  case  might 
become  proper  for  a  jury.  Thus  Mr.  Caleb  Gush- 
ing said,  "  It  may  be,  for  instance,  that  McLeod,  if 
he  killed  Durfee,  did  so  from  private  malice,  and, 
if  so,  he  is  clearly  responsible  to  the  laws  of  New 
York  for  the  act ;  and,  if  he  did  so,  I  cannot  but 
think  that  the  English  government,  instead  of  un- 
dertaking to  protect  him,  would  be  glad  to  see 
him  punished,  and  the  rather  if  he  should  have 
sought  purposes  of  private  malice  under  the  cover 
of  simulated  obedience  to  the  orders  of  his  gov- 
ernment. It  may  be  that  these  orders  did  not 
cover  this  fact.^ 

The  case  having  been  moved  into  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  State  of  New  York,  and  a  habeas 
corjms  granted  by  Mr.  Justice  Cowen,  an  applica- 
tion for  the  discharge  of  McLeod  absolutely,  or  on 
his  own  recognizance,  or  by  a  nolle  2)roseqid,  was 
heard  and  denied.  In  his  opinion.  Judge  Cowen 
considered  the  law  of  nations  quite  at  large ;  and, 
as  the  two  governments  were  at  peace,  no  decla- 
ration of  war  having  been  made,  he  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  no  rule  growing  out  of  the  usages 
of  nations  could  be  applied  to  the  relief  of  the 
prisoner.  It  must  be  conceded  that  this  part  of 
the  opinion  was   not  necessary  to  the  decision. 

1  Glohet  1841,  Appendix,  p.  422. 


VIEWS  OF  HON.  JOnX   W.  EDMUNDS. 


181 


But,  if  the  rule  sugj^csted  by  Mr.  Fox  had  been 
accepted  by  Justice  Cowcn,  McLeod  must  still 
have  been  held  for  trial.  In  no  possible  view  of 
the  case  could  the  application  have  l)een  granted. 

The  idea  that  McLeod  sliould  be  discharged  or 
be  allowed  to  go  on  his  recognizance  could  not 
have  been  seriously  entertained. 

As  the  indictment  was  for  murder,  the  regular 
practice  was  not  even  to  accept  bail.  That  is  the 
rule  now,  and  I  trust  ever  will  be.  The  instances 
in  which  bail  has  been  taken  after  such  indict- 
ments are  exceptional,  clearly  distinguished  by 
qualifying  circumstances  from  the  case  of  Mc- 
Leod. As  the  Governor  of  the  State,  Mr.  Sew- 
ard, an  able  lawyer,  had  refused  to  interfere,  and 
as  the  District  Attorney  of  Niagara  County  and 
the  Attorney-General  of  the  State  were  before 
the  court  claiming  that  McLeod  should  be  tried 
by  a  jury,  a  7ioUe  jjroseqid  could  not  have  been 
entered.  The  power  and  the  duty  of  the  court 
on  the  habeas  corjnis  were  "well  stated  in  The 
People  vs.  Martin,  1  Park.  Or.  C.  191,  by  the 
Hon.  John  W.  Edmunds,  a  judge  of  great  learn- 
ing and  experience.  In  speaking  of  the  Mc- 
Leod case,  that  learned  judge  said,  "  The  question 
raised  there  was,  whether,  after  indictment,  the 
court,  on  habeas  corpus,  would  entertain  the 
question  of  guilt  or  innocence,  and  on  that  ques- 


W 


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11. 


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If 


182 


MEMOniE!^   OF  RUl'irs  Clio  ATE. 


tion  tlie  aiitliorities  had  been  very  uniform  that  it 
would  not ;  and  for  the  very  phiiii  and  simple 
reason  that,  as  the  testimony  before  the  o;rand 
jury  would  not  ])e  written,  and  could  not  be  looked 
into,  the  court  or  oflicer  on  the  habeaa  corpus  could 
not  ascertain  on  what  evidence  the  «;rand  jury 
had  acted,  and  could  not  entertain  the  question 
without  receivinj^  precisely  the  same  testimony 
which  the  jury  would  be  obliged  to  receive  on 
the  trial,  and  thus  in  fact  usurping  the  province  of 
the  jvn-y.  Hence  it  has  been  the  practice  of  the 
English  courts  and  our  own,  which  was  followed 
in  the  McLeod  case,  not  to  look  into  the  question 
of  guilt  or  innocence  on  habeas  corpus  after  in- 
dictment." 

I  have  never  believed  that  Mr.  Webster  wished 
to  have  McLeod  liberated  without  a  formal  trial. 
He  could  not  have  properly  moved  a  step  in  that 
direction  without  an  investigation.  When,  on  in- 
quiry, he  had  learned  what  the  terms  of  the  in- 
dictment were,  and  that,  as  shown  before  Judge 
Cowen,  Durfee  had  been  killed  when  he  was  at 
some  distance  from  the  Caroline,  and,  possibly, 
without  his  havino;  been  engas-ed  in  resisting:  the 
attack  on  the  vessel,  Mr.  Webster  would  have 
favored  a  formal  trial,  or,  what  would  have  been 
most  becoming,  declined  to  interfere.  His  friends, 
while   approving   his  views  on   the  narrow  basis 


END  OF  Till-:  MCLEOD  DIFFICULTIES. 


183 


stntod,  would  luive  ndniitUHl  tliiit  a  foniiMl  invosti- 
giition  was  necessary.  That  (juestion  did  not  arise 
in  tlie  debate  in  wliich  Mr.  Clioate  took  part,  save 
that,  in  defending  Mr.  Webster,  he  hiys  stress,  as 
wo  liave  seen,  upon  the  fact  tliat  lie  does  not  deal 
"with  the  case  of  a  soldier  stra_i:\uling  away  from 
his  colors  to  commit  a  solitary  and  separate  mur- 
der." Ihit,  if  any  argument  and  admonition  were 
necessary,  the  observations  I  have  cited  from  Mr. 
Cushing's  speech  would  have  been  sullicient. 

It  is  grateful  to  remember  how  lia[)j)ily  this 
afTair,  in  both  of  its  aspects,  was  disposed  of  by 
the  general  government  and  by  the  Supreme 
Court  of  New  York,  each  acting  in  its  appro- 
priate sphere,  without  undue  and  factitious  in- 
terference. A  few  gentle  words  by  Ashburton, 
in  the  tone  of  national  regret,  were  accepted  in 
satisfaction  for  the  forcible  intrusion  upon  our 
territory ;  and,  the  venue  in  the  McLeod  case 
having  been  changed  to  Oneida  County,  he  was 
tried  before  Judge  Gridley  and  a  jury,  ;uid  was 
acquitted. 

The  testimony  against  him  was  as  to  his  silly 
and  repeated  boast  that  he  had  helped  to  destroy 
the  Caroline,  and  '•  had  finished  Durfcc."  But  it 
appeared  that  McLeod  was  not  one  of  the  party 
sent  over  to  capture  the  vessel,  and  that  he  was 
not  in  the  State  of  New  York  at  the  time  Durfee 


'■fir 


iiili 


I 


^t  : 


,'M 


ill- 


184 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE. 


II 


was  killed.  The  proof  to  establish  the  alibi -waa 
clear  and  conclusive. 

After  the  excitement  caused  by  that  case  had 
subsided,  the  power  of  the  United  States  court 
"was  extended  by  the  Remedial  Justice  Bill,  passed 
Jul}'-  7,  1842.  The  purpose  was  to  authorize  the 
removal  from  the  state  courts,  at  an  early  stage 
of  an  accusation,  cases  like  that  of  McLeod,  and 
to  give  to  the  federal  courts  power  to  inquire 
into  contentions  likely  to  create  international  com- 
plications. The  measure  was  just  and  wise.  Mr. 
Choate  gave  it  his  earnest  support.  He  thus 
stated  the  practice  under  the  bill :  "  The  national 
tribunals  interpose  so  far  only  as  to  determine 
whether  the  laws  of  nations  entitle  the  prisoner 
to  his  discharge.  If  they  do,  he  is  discharged  ; 
if  not,  whatever  the  evidence  or  the  deficiency  of 
evidence  against  him,  he  is  remanded  to  the  court 
of  the  State  for  general  trial." 

It  may  bo  observed  that  had  this  law  and  prac- 
tice been  in  full  force  before  the  charo-e  against 
McLeod  was  made,  and  had  the  first  counts  of  the 
indictment,  to  which  I  have  referred,  been  omit- 
ted, and  it  had  appeared  that  McLeod  was  one  of 
the  party  ordered  over  by  the  provincial  author- 
ity, and  that  the  death  of  Durfee  occurred  as  an 
unavoidable  incident  in  the  capture  of  the  Caro- 
line, the  prisoner  might  have  been  released ;  but, 


OTHER   SUBJECTS   OF  IMPORTANCE. 


185 


with  the  case  as  it  actually  existed,  McLeod  could 
have  had  no  relief  under  the  Remedial  Bill. 

Other  subjects  of  im]iortance  engaged  Mr. 
Choate's  attention  while  he  remained  in  the  Sen- 
ate. In  the  discussion  of  some  of  them,  he  took 
a  leading  part.  Of  his  three  speeches  relating 
to  the  Oregon  Territory,  one  only  has  been  pre- 
served. It  is  conciliatory  in  spirit  and  of  com- 
manding ability.  lie  contributed  largely  to  the 
confirmation  of  the  treaty  between  this  govern- 
ment and  Great  Britain,  which  had  been  nego- 
tiated by  Mr.  Webster  and  Lord  Ashburton  ;  a 
treaty  by  which  important  claims,  long  held  in 
suspense,  were  adjusted,  and  causes  of  olfense, 
which  threatened  to  disturb  the  amicable  relations 
of  the  two  governments,  were  removed. 

•In  common  with  the  leading  members  of  the 
Whig  party,  Mr.  Clioate  was  in  favor  of  creat- 
ing a  national  bank.  It  seems  probable  that  if 
the  President,  Mr.  Harrison,  had  survived,  such 
an  institution  would  have  been  established.  But 
upon  his  death  on  the  4th  of  April,  1841,  Mr. 
Tyler  became  President.  When  he  was  chosen 
Vice-President,  it  was  known  that,  on  constitu- 
tional grounds,  he  was  opposed  to  such  a  bank. 
As  might  have  been  expected,  he  held  to  that 
opinion. 

In   the   special  session   of   1841,   efforts   were 


1:11 


:  it 

'■'t' 


m 


'f 


1 , 


:ilL 


186 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


r\ 


I  i 


made  to  create  such  a  bank  —  a  Fiscal  Agency  — 
and  notably  upon  a  plan  which  had  been  reported 
by  the  Secretary  of  tbe  Treasury.  To  the  bill, 
founded  on  that  plan,  an  amendment  was  pro- 
posed to  the  effect  that  the  assent  of  a  State 
should  l)e  obtained  before  establishinu;  branches 
of  the  bank  therein.  Mr.  Choate  supported  the 
amendment  in  a  speech  ^  from  which  I  take  some 
extracts.  He  says,  "  I  do  not  vote  for  the  bill 
from  any  doubt  of  the  constitutional  iwer  of 
Congress  to  establish  branches  all  over  the  States, 
possessing  the  discounting  function,  directly  and 
adversely  against  their  united  assent.  I  differ, 
in  this  particular,  wholly  from  the  Senator  who 
moves  the  amendment.  I  have  no  more  doubt 
of  your  power  to  make  such  a  bank  and  such 
branches  anj^where  than  of  your  power  to  buikl 
a  post-ofFice  or  a  custom-house  anywhere.  This 
question  for  me  is  .settled,  and  settled  rightly.  I 
have  the  honor  and  happiness  to  concur  on  it  with 
all,  or  almost  all,  of  our  greatest  names ;  with  our 
national  judicial  tribunal,  and  with  both  the  two 
grec.t,  original,  political  parties ;  with  Washing- 
ton, Hamilton.  Marshall,  Story,  Madison,  Monroe, 
Crawford,  and  with  the  entire  Republican  admin- 
istration and  organization  of  1816  and  1817. 
"  But  it  does  not  follow,  because  we  possess  this 

*  Globe,  Appendix,  p.  356. 


Clio  ATE  SUPPORTS   THE  AMENDMENT.     187 


:^i;- 


or  any  other  power,  that  it  i.s  wise  or  needful,  in 
any  given  case,  to  attempt  to  exert  it.  We  may 
find  ourselves  so  situated  that  we  cannot  do  it  if 
wo  would,  for  w\ant  of  the  concurrence  of  other 
judgments ;  and  therefore  a  struggle  might  he  as 
unavailing  as  it  would  be  mischievous  and  un- 
seemly. We  may  find  ourselves  so  situated  that 
we  ouu-ht  not  to  do  it  if  we  could.  All  thinu^s 
which  are  lawful  are  not  convenient,  are  not  prac- 
ticable, are  not  wise,  are  not  safe,  are  not  kind. 
A  sound  and  healing  discretion,  therefore,  the 
moral  coercion  of  irresistible  circumstances,  may 
fitly  temper,  and  even  wholly  restrain,  the  exer- 
cise of  the  clearest  power  ever  belonging  to  hu- 
man government. 

"  By  uniting  here  on  this  amendment,  3'ou  put 
an  effective  bank  in  operation,  to  some  useful  and 
substantial  extent,  by  the  first  of  January.  Turn 
now  to  the  other  alternative.  Sir,  if  vou  adhere 
to  the  bill  reported  by  the  committee,  I  fully  be- 
lieve you  pass  no  bank  charter  this  session.  I 
doubt  whether  you  carry  it  through  Congress.  If 
you  can,  I  do  not  believe  you  can  make  it  a  law. 
I  have  no  doubt  you  will  fail  to  do  so.  I  do  not 
enter  on  the  reasons  of  my  belief.  The  rules  of 
orderly  proceedings  here,  decorum,  pride,  regret  " 
would  all  prevent  my  doing  it.  I  have  no  per- 
sonal or  private  grounds  for  the  conviction  which 


m 


188 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


■  ■ 


;  :.. 


holds  me  fast ;  but  I  judge  on  notorious  and,  to 
my  mind,  decisive  indications ;  and  I  know  that  it 
is  my  duty  to  act  on  my  belief,  whether  well  or 
ill-founded,  and  however  conjecturally  derived. 

"  Let  me  say,  Sir,  that  to  administer  the  con- 
tested powers  of  the  Constitution  is,  for  those  of 
you  who  believe  that  they  exist,  at  all  times  a 
trust  of  difficulty  and  delicacy.  I  do  not  know 
that  I  should  not  venture  to  suggest  this  general 
direction  for  the  performance  of  that  grave  duty. 
Steadily  and  strongly  assert  their  existence  ;  do 
not  surrender  them ;  retain  them  with  a  provi- 
dent forecast,  for  the  time  may  come  when  you 
will  need  to  enforce  them  by  the  whole  moral  and 
physical  strength  of  the  Union  ;  but  do  not  exert 
them  at  all  so  long  as  you  can,  by  other,  less  of- 
fensive expedients  of  wisdom,  effectually  secure 
to  the  people  all  the  practical  benefits  which  you 
believe  they  were  inserted  into  the  Constitution 
to  secure.  Thus  will  the  Union  last  longest,  and 
do  most  good.  To  exercise  a  contested  power 
without  necessity,  on  the  notion  of  keeping  up 
the  tone  of  government,  is  not  much  better  than 
tyranny,  and  very  improvident  and  impolitic  tyr- 
anny, too.  It  is  turning  '  extreme  medicine  into 
daily  bread.'  It  forgets  that  the  final  end  of  gov- 
ernment is  not  to  exert  restraint  but  to  do  good. 

"  Within  this  general  view  of  the  true  mode 


CONTESTED  CONSTITUTIONAL  POWERS.     189 

of  {idministering  contestctl  powers,  I  think  the 
measure  we  propose  is  as  wise  as  it  is  concilia- 
tory ;  wise,  because  it  is  concili.'itory  ;  w'ise,  be- 
cause it  reconciles  a  strong  theory  of  the  Consti- 
tution with  a  discreet  and  kind  administration  of 
it.  I  desire  to  give  the  country  a  bank.  Well, 
here  is  a  mode  in  which  I  can  do  it.  Shall  I  re- 
fuse to  do  it  in  that  mode  because  I  cannot  at  the 
same  time  and  by  the  same  operation  gain  a  vic- 
tory over  the  settled  constitutional  opinions,  and 
show  my  contempt  for  tlie  ancient  and  unappeas- 
able jealousy  and  prejudices  of  not  far  from  half 
of  the  American  people  ?  Shall  I  refuse  to  do  it 
in  that  mode  because  I  cannot  at  the  same  time 
and  by  the  same  operation  win  a  triumph  of  con- 
stitutional law  over  political  associates  who  agree 
with  me  on  nine  in  ten  of  all  the  questions  which 
divide  the  parties  of  the  country  ;  whose  energies 
and  eloquence,  under  many  an  October  and  many 
an  Auirust  sun,  have  contributed  so  much  to  the 
transcendent  reformation  which  has  brought  you 
into  power  ? 

''  There  is  one  consideration  more  which  has 
had  some  influence  in  determining  my  vote.  I 
confess  that  I  think  that  a  bank  established  in  the 
manner  contemplated  by  this  amendment  stands, 
in  the  actual  circumstances  of  our  time,  a  chance 
to  lead  a  quieter  and  more  secure  life,  so  to  speak, 


i,'! 


(■•  I 


;    I  ■ 

Hi 


It 
■  i 


•  r 


•'lit 


'I 


.;■ 


;  f  1 


6     'J 

y  6 


mi 


''*i^ 
•^ 


'0?     .V 


-^ 


lllj 


fp 


ri 


r 


I 


11  i^ 


iiti! 


190 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


than  a  bank  established  by  the  bill.  I  think  it 
worth  our  while  to  try  to  make,  what  never  yet 
was  seen,  a  popular  national  bank.  Judging  from 
the  past  and  the  present,  from  the  last  years  of 
the  last  bank  and  the  manner  in  which  its  exist- 
ence was  terminated,  from  the  tone  of  debate 
and  of  the  press,  and  the  general  indications  of 
public  opinion,  I  acknowledge  an  apprehension 
that  such  an  institution,  created  by  a  direct  exer- 
tion of  your  power,  throwing  off  its  branches 
without  reiiard  to  the  wishes  or  wants  of  the 
States,  as  judged  of  by  themselves,  and  without 
any  attempt  to  engage  their  auxiliary  coopera- 
tion, diminishing  the  business  and  reducing  the 
profits  of  the  local  banks,  and  exempted  from 
their  burdens,  —  that  such  an  institution  may  not 
find  so  quiet  and  safe  a  field  of  operation  as  is  de- 
sfrable  for  usefulness  and  profit.  I  do  not  wish  to 
see  it  standing  like  a  fortified  post  on  a  foreign 
border,  never  wholly  at  peace,  always  assailed, 
always  belligerent ;  not  falling  perhaps,  but  never 
safe,  the  nurse  and  the  prize  of  unappeasable  hos- 
tility. No,  Sir.  Even  such  an  institution,  under 
conceivable  circumstances,  it  might  be  our  duty 
to  establish  and  maintain  in  the  face  of  all  oppo- 
sition and  to  the  last  gasp.  But  so  much  evil  at- 
tends such  a  state  of  things,  so  much  insecurity, 
so  much  excitement ;  it  would  be  exposed  to  the 


INTERRUPTION  OF  DEBATE. 


191 


pelting  of  such  a  pitiless  storm  of  the  press  and 
public  speech  ;  so  many  demagogues  would  get 
good  livings  by  railing  at  it ;  so  many  honest  men 
would  really  regard  it  as  unconstitution:d,  and  as 
dangerous  to  business  and  liberty,  that  it  is  worth 
an  exertion  to  avoid  it.  .  .  .  Sir,  I  desire  to  see 
the  bank  of  the  United  States  become  a  cherished 
domestic  institution,  reposing  in  the  bosom  of  our 
law  and  of  our  attachments.  Established  by  the 
concurrent  action  or  on  the  application  of  the 
States,  such  might  be  its  character.  There  will 
be  a  struggle  on  the  question  of  admitting  the 
discount  power  into  the  States ;  much  good  sense 
and  much  nonsense  will  be  spoken  and  written ; 
but  such  a  stru2:":le  will  be  harmless  and  brief ; 
and,  when  that  is  over,  all  is  over.  The  States 
which  exclude  it  will  hardly  exasperate  them- 
selves farther  about  it.  Those  which  admit  it  ^wll 
soothe  themselves  with  the  consideration  that  the 
act  is  their  own,  and  that  the  existence  of  this 
power  of  the  branch  is  a  perpetual  recognition  of 
their  sovereignty.  Thus  might  it  sooner  cease 
to  wear  the  alien,  aggressive,  and  privileged  as- 
pect which  has  rendered  it  offensive,  and  become 
sooner  blended  with  the  mass  of  domestic  inter- 
ests, cherished  by  the  same  regards,  protected  by 
the  same  and  by  a  higher  law." 
At  the   close  of   this   speech,  Mr.  Choate  was 


'  '■■■  »,':1 


\\\ 


.'  (1: 


U 


I 


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IV       ( 


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■  li 


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i 


192 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


li; 


interrupted  by  Mr.  Clay,  and  an  altercation, 
questions  and  answers,  followed.  The  Washing- 
ton "  Globe  "  had  a  full  and  correct  report  of  the 
affair.  Professor  Brown  gives  a  like  account. 
But,  in  his  "  Recollections  of  Rufus  Choate,"  Mr. 
Whipple  has  a  different  version.  As  he  was  not 
present  to  witness  the  occurrence,  what  is  said 
in  his  "  Recollections  "  to  the  prejudice  of  Mr. 
Choate  may  be  allowed  to  pass  without  correction. 
In  stating  his  belief  that  the  bill,  as  reported, 
would  not  become  a  law,  Mr.  Choate  had  in  view 
the  well-known  opinion  of  President  Tyler.  That 
is  obvious.  He  could  not  with  propriety  refer 
directly  to  that  opinion,  and  says,  ''  Decorum, 
pride,  regret,  would  all  prevent  my  doing  it." 
Regret  for  what?  Regret  for  the  fact  that  the 
President  was,  as  everybody  knew,  opposed  to  a 
naitional  bank.  So  he  judges  on  what  he  calls  no- 
torious indications.  What  Mr.  Choate  said  would 
not  support  the  opinion  that  he  had  conferred 
with  the  President  or  the  Secretary  of  State  on 
the  subject.  He  stated  his  own  convictions,  his 
right  to  act  upon  them,  "  however  conjecturally 
derived."  There  was,  therefore,  nothing  to  jus- 
tify the  imputation  implied  in  the  questions  put 
by  Mr.  Clay.  That  Mr.  Choate  did  not  lose  his 
temper  or  self-possession  is  evident  from  his  last 
replies  to  Mr.  Clay's  demands  :  — 


AN  APOLOGY. 


193 


(1.)  "  Sir,  I  insist  on  my  right  to  explain  what 
I  did  say,  in  my  own  words ;  "  and  (2.)  "  He  will 
have  to  take  the  answer  as  I  choose  to  give  it." 
That  Mr.  Clay  was  utterly  wrong  appears  from 
the  fact  that  the  next  morning,  in  the  Senate 
chamber,  he  made  an  explanation  in  the  nature  of 
an  apology. 

Mr.  Choate's  argument  in  support  of  the  amend- 
ment to  the  bill  was  wise  and  conciliatory.  A 
bank  thus  created  would  have  been,  in  a  sense,  a 
state  institution,  its  character  utterly  unlike  that 
of  the  old  United  States  Bank.  His  argument,  so 
moderate  in  tone,  so  persuasive,  would  almost  lead 
us  to  think  well  of  such  an  agency ;  to  think  as 
well  of  it  as  we  can  of  our  present  national  banks. 

13 


i.ti 


ti  i 


!M1 


11  i 


1 


i'i 


I 


CHAPTER  XL 

A  Short  Term  in  Congress  a  Sacrifice.  —  Resigns  to  return  to 
the  Profession.  —  Modest  Estimate  of  his  own  Powers.  — 
The  Rewards  of  Professional  Work.  —  Continued  until  his 
Health  failed.  —  His  Last  Case. —  Cheerful  to  the  Last. — 
A  Sea  Voyage  for  Health  too  late.  —  His  Death.  —  His 
Love  of  the  Union.  —  Conversations  with  Mr.  Pratt.  —  Ap- 
prehends Civil  War.  —  In  that  War,  after  his  Death,  he  is 
well  represented. 

A  FEW  words  of  explanation  may  be  due  to  the 
reader  who  regrets  that  a  more  minute  deUnea- 
tion  of  Mr.  Choate's  career  as  statesman  has  not 
been  given.  Many  of  the  subjects  in  the  discus- 
sion of  which  he  took  part  in  the  lower  House, 
and  in  the  Senate,  have  lost  their  significance,  or 
have  become  familiar  in  history.  Many  of  his 
speeches  have  not  been  preserved,  and  we  can- 
not, from  mere  hearsay,  outline  or  estimate  the 
arguments  which  gave  weight  and  attraction  to 
them.  His  published  efforts  are  widely  read, 
and  he  who  reads  them  carefully,  catching  their 
spirit  and  tone,  may  claim  to  know  him  better 
than  he  who  is  familiar  with  the  mere  acts  and 
incidents  of  his  life.     It  has,  therefore,  seemed 


A   SHOUT  TERM  IN  CONGRESS. 


195 


to  be  sufficient  for  the  present  purpose  to  refer 
in  general  terms  to  tlie  course  pursued  by  liim 
in  Congress,  and  to  call  attention  to  his  treatment 
of  some  subjects  of  importance. 

In  view  of  Mr.  Choate's  usefulness  in  his  pro- 
fession, and  of  his  love  of  home-life  and  quiet 
study,  some  may  regret  that  he  was  ever  called 
into  the  legislative  councils.  His  term  in  both 
Houses  of  Congress,  little  more  than  six  years, 
was  long  enough  to  impose  great  sacrifices,  but 
not  long  enough  to  secure  the  highest  rewards. 
No  doubt  there  were  some  compensations.  New 
channels  for  exertion  were  opened  to  him,  and 
he  had  the  satisfaction  of  discussing  some  of  the 
vexed  questions  of  the  day  before  deliberative 
bodies  composed  of  men  of  great  political  sagac- 
ity and  experience.  He  must  have  highly  valued 
the  new  friends  who  were  thus  drawn  to  him, 
some  of  whom  ever  held  him  in  close  and  loving 
remembrance.  But  to  enable  a  member  of  either 
House,  whatever  be  his  gifts  and  attainments,  to 
achieve  national  fame,  and  become  a  vital  pres- 
ence in  the  memory  of  the  people,  he  must  re- 
main in  the  service  long  enough  to  assume  special 
relations  to  a  great  variety  of  measures  of  public 
interest.  The  mention  of  such  measures  would 
thereafter  recall  the  name  of  the  member,  the 
mention  of   the   name   recall   the   subjects  with 


'  1 


•'!i 


i, 


( ; 


m 


:;n 


" 


■i\i 


IPI 


190 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


which  ho  was  identified.  Such  has  been  the  in- 
heritance of  Clay,  of  Webster,  of  Sumner,  of  Ben- 
ton, whose  terms  ranged  from  fourteen  to  thirty 
years. 

It  may  be  inferred  that  such  honors  sat  lightly 
on  Mr.  Choate,  inasmuch  us  he  retired  from  the 
Senate  before  the  term  for  which  he  had  been 
elected  had  expired,  that  he  might  resume  with 
greater  freedom  his  practice  in  the  courts.  In- 
deed, honors  and  distinctions  wliich  he  could 
have  gracefully  accepted,  but  which  would  have 
changed  his  relations  to  the  law,  were  not  desired 
by  him.  Thus  it  was  that  his  friends  sought  in 
vain  to  induce  him  to  accept  the  position,  in- 
formally tendered,  of  professor  in  the  Cambridge 
Law  School,  a  place  made  illustrious  by  the  ser- 
vices of  Judge  Story.  So,  also,  he  declined  the 
office  of  judge  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Massa- 
chusetts, offered  him  by  Governor  Briggs;  and 
the  yet  higher  distinction  of  justice  of  the  Su- 
preme Court  of  the  nation,  as  successor  of  Judge 
Woodbury. 

I  have  thought  that  Mr.  Choate  had  a  modest 
estimate  of  his  own  powers.  In  the  trial  and 
argument  of  causes,  he  had  had  no  occasion  to 
doubt  his  ability  to  perform  his  whole  duty.  But 
he  may  not  have  been  satisfied  that  he  could  in 
equal  degree  discharge  his  duties  as  judge.    The 


.H.      ■  (I 


MODEST  ESTIMATE   OF  IIIS   OWX  POWERS.     197 

notion  prevailed  in  the  profession,  and  perhaps 
M'aa  credited  by  liiin,  that,  wanting  tlie  jiuHcial 
temperament,  tlie  greatest  advocate,  whose  modea 
of  thouglit  and  of  reasoning  peculiar  to  the  bar 
could  not  be  easily  qualified,  might  not  be  a  great 
judge.  He  must  have  regarded  the  late  Benjamin 
R.  Curtis  as  an  exception  to  that  theory,  since  he 
favored  his  appointment  as  justice  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  the  place  Mr.  Choate  himself  might  have 
accepted.  He  seldom  erred  in  estimating  the 
qualities  of  other  minds,  and  did  not  err  in  this 
instance ;  the  great  advocate  became  preeminent 
as  a  judge. 

But  there  w^re  serious  objections  to  Mr.  Choate's 
acceptance  of  judicial  office.  By  years  of  study, 
devotion,  and  work  suited  to  his  taste  and  genius, 
he  had  secured  a  position  and  an  income  that 
might  have  satisfied  the  ambition  of  almost  any 
man.  It  would  have  required  a  great  effort  to 
cast  aside  the  robes  he  had  with  honor  worn  so 
long.  In  that  service,  without  being  hard  or  ex- 
acting, without  wronging  any  man,  he  had  se- 
cured the  means  necessary  to  support  his  family 
in  a  manner  suited  to  his  position,  to  educate  his 
children,  to  collect  the  books  he  loved,  to  pro- 
mote the  interests  of  schools  and  of  moral  and 
literary  associations,  and,  in  a  generous  spirit,  to 
relieve  the  wants  of  others,  —  even  of  those  who 


i» 


li  i 


■■H 


»► 


I  ' 


u 


i 

-  ■    ■          -* 

MnLill 

m 


IWw 


198 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


ffi^ 


had  no  claims  upon  him.  But  it  remained  for 
him  to  lay  up  more  securel}^  a  competence  for  his 
family.  To  that  end  he  must  continue  his  profes- 
sional work.  He  did  so  until  his  desires  would 
seem  to  have  been  fulfilled. 

The  qualities  of  Mr.  Choate's  nature,  his  habits, 
the  incentives  which  moved  him,  and  the  prin- 
ciples which  he  cherished  have  been  illustrated 
by  my  correspondents.  From  first  to  last  he  ap- 
pears to  have  been  true  to  his  own  nature.  Early 
in  life  he  saw  his  vocation,  and,  without  faltering 
or  repining,  accepted  it,  —  the  representative  of 
those  who,  being  dumb,  need  an  advocate.  Had 
he  been  proud,  austere,  or  imperious  in  tone  and 
manner,  no  one  would  have  wondered ;  but  he 
was  neither.  In  his  courtesy  to  his  brethren  at 
the  bar,  in  his  kindness  to  his  juniors,  —  too  sov- 
ereign to  seem  like  condescension,  —  in  his  fidelity 
to  his  clients,  in  his  gonial  spirit  and  sweetness  of 
temper,  in  his  freedom  from  egotism,  and  in  his 
love  of  study  and  submission  to  labor,  he  gave 
grace  and  dignity  to  a  weary  and  a  useful  life. 
"What  more  could  he  do  to  perfect  a  character 
which  the  student  may  regard  as  an  example  ? 
What  more  to  inspire  us  with  love  and  grati- 
tude ? 

Mr.  Choate  continued  his  professional  work  after 
his  physical  strength  had  begun  to  fail.     He  was 


Ills  DEATH. 


199 


before  the  Supreme  Court,  in  Gage  vs.  Tudor,  in 
March,  1859.  The  next  month  he  attended  at 
chambers  on  a  mere  motion.  Later  in  the  month, 
and  at  Salem,  he  took  part  in  a  contention  as  to 
the  vahdity  of  a  will,  but  was  not  able  to  remain 
in  court  until  the  case  had  been  fully  heard.^  We 
are  told  that  he  never  went  to  his  office  again. 

I  have  few  words  to  add.  I  put  aside  letters, 
in  which  friends  have  given  many  particulars  as 
to  his  sufferings  for  some  weeks  after  he  had  left 
the  court  for  the  last  time.  As  I  am  not  writing 
the  life  of  Mr.  Choate  in  detail,  I  spare  myself 
and  the  reader  the  pain  of  such  recitals.  It  is 
grateful,  however,  to  learn  that,  to  the  last,  his 
mind  was  clear  and  active ;  that  the  cheerfulness 
which  had  been  a  sovereign  trait  of  his  charac- 
ter remained  ;  and  that  the  lessons  —  fragments 
of  favorite  authors  —  which  his  daughters  and 
his  son  read  to  him,  were  heard  with  a  lively  in- 
terest, the  old  interest,  and  were  soothing  to  his 
spirit. 

After  much  consideration,  and  upon  medical 
advice,  he  undertook  a  voyage  to  Europe  to  im- 
prove his  health.  But,  alas !  it  was  too  late.  He 
left  Boston  on  the  Europa,  on  the  29th  of  June. 
Not  being  abl-i  to  continue  the  voyage,  he  landed 

^  My  friend,  Benjamin  E.  Valentine,  Esq.,  liaving  examined  the 
records,  assures  mo  that  this  was  Mr.  Choate's  last  case. 


I  .<, 


m 


Dill 


t, 


M,t 


^N 


'  I ,' 


t 


*i  » 


iM 


200 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


i .' 


! 
I!! 


at  Halifax,  where,  on  the  13th  of  July,  1859,  he 
died. 

From  his  studies  and  convictions,  Rufus  Choate 
was  conservative.  He  had  a  profound  regard  for 
our  organic  laws.  To  him  the  Constitution  was 
sacred,  to  be  observed,  or  to  be  amended  in  the 
orderly  methods  appointed.  He  saw  that  slavery 
was  a  state  institution,  under  the  control  of,  and 
to  be  abolished  by,  the  States  where  it  existed  ; 
and  that  Congress  had  no  power  to  touch  the 
question  whether  it  should  be  continued  or  not. 
He  deprecated  our  feverish  and  fruitless  discus- 
sions as  to  the  duties  of  the  Southern  States, — 
our  attempts  to  regulate,  as  a  matter  of  sentiment, 
an  evil  which  we  could  not  cure  or  even  modify. 
This  drew  down  upon  him  the  reproach  of  a  party 
which  claimed  to  represent  the  spirit  of  higher 
and  more  humane  laws  than  those  which  had  been, 
or  by  our  instrumentality  could  be,  enacted.  Yet 
it  cannot  well  be  suggested  that  the  man  who  is 
now  loyal  to  the  Constitution  and  to  our  laws  is 
entitled  to  more  respect  than  was  Mr.  Choate,  who 
ever  cherished  such  a  spirit. 

Mr.  Choate  sought  to  inspire  the  people  with 
such  love  for  the  Constitution  and  the  Union  as 
might  make  secession  impossible.  Had  he  lived, 
he  would  doubtless  have  continued  that  instruction, 
in  the  hope  that  free  men,  acting  faithfully  and 


)'  li 


CONVERSATION  WITH  MR.  PRATT. 


201 


with  patience,  might  devise  means  for  the  cure  of 
all  the  evils  of  the  body  politic.  I  believe  that, 
had  the  sentiment  of  the  North  and  of  the  South 
been  ripe  for  it,  his  plan  would  have  been  to  pur- 
chase the  freedom  of  the  slaves.  But  there  was 
no  hour  in  his  life  when  such  a  scheme  could  have 
been  suggested.  He  foresaw  the  trouble  which 
at  last  came,  and  with  an  anxious  heart,  solicitous 
for  the  preservation  of  the  Union,  gave  no  uncer- 
tain indication  of  what  he  would  do,  should  he  live 
until  the  day  of  wrath  and  conflict. 

Edv/ard  Ellerton  Pratt,  Esq.,  gives  me  the 
substance  of  a  conversation  which  he  had  with  Mr. 
Clioate  in  the  summer  of  1856.  They  were  sit- 
ting on  the  rocks  at  Marblehead,  and  looking  over 
the  waters  in  which  the  frigate  Constitution  was 
chased  by  British  cruisers  in  the  war  of  1812-14. 
Mr.  Pratt  says,  "  In  speaking  of  that  war,  the 
question  arose  as  to  the  next  struggle  in  which 
this  country  might  be  engaged.  Mr.  Choate  said, 
'  I  shall  not  probably  live  to  see  it,  but  I  fear  there 
will  ere  long  be  a  civil  war  between  the  North  and 
the  South.'  I  expressed  my  horror  at  such  an 
idea,  and  asked  how  that  could  be  possible.  Said 
he,  '  It  is  a  very  easy  thing  to  get  up  such  a  con- 
flict when  one  large  section  of  the  country,  in- 
flamed by  interest,  pride,  and  resentment,  is  hos- 
tile and  united.     We  at  the  North,  if  we  wished, 


• 


;1 


Vf-'    ''If' 


m  i 


iii  ''r 


^11 


hm 


w 


rl         m 


y'^ 


202 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


could  bring  it  about ;  so  could  they  at  the  South ; 
and  the  adverse  feeling  is  getting  so  bitter  that 
one  side  or  the  other  xnay  provoke  the  issue.  If 
the  Democrats,  now  about  to  elect  Buchanan,  have 
prudence  and  good  temper,  they  can  tide  the 
trouble  over  for  a  while,  perhaps  until  there  may 
come  a  better  understanding  and  more  friendly 
feeling.  But  I  fear  they  will  not  show  such  mod- 
eration and  prudence.'  Mr.  Choate  appeared  to 
think  it  probable  that  within  ten  years  a  civil  war 
would  break  out,  and  told  me  that  it  would  be  my 
duty,  the  duty  of  all,  to  do  what  was  possible  to 
maintain  the  Union  whether  war  could  or  could 
not  be  averted." 

The  war  came,  and,  when  the  sound  of  the 
guns  at  Fort  Sumter  awakened  the  North,  Rufus 
Choate,  Jr.,  then  a  young  lawyer  in  Boston,  and 
Joseph  M.  Bell,  a  lawyer  of  large  reading  and 
experience,  wlio  had  married  Mr.  Choate's  eldest 
daughter,  entered  the  service ;  in  a  sense  they 
gave  their  lives  for  the  suppression  of  the  Rebel- 
lion. 

Rufus  Choate,  Jr.,  served  in  the  war  with  great 
distinction.  He  was  in  several  engagements;  and, 
though  ill  at  the  time,  took  part  in  the  battle  of 
Cedar  Mountain.  His  exposures  brought  on  the 
neuralgia,  and  he  was  compelled  to  resign  his 
commission  as  captain,  and  return  home.     After 


r.»< 


:.)«. 


Ill 


1 


II 


M:'   ^i. 


is 


-■^/^(::^'$%''t^'' 


*  ^^-.v 


I;    ",   i  ■ 


-'^-.y--"*. 


-1 


!;ii 


t 


'T 


I 


:vv/': 


If  i 


m ' 


^:>*ix 


T.ni'iencv;    and    .4"'"' 

L  elinj^.     Bui  1.  ieiir  r; 
Liii^iun  und  pnidcuf.\;.' 

ik  it  ^Moli.fblf  th.": 


V -:.',.  M.    i.-i. 


M  ri" 


.  .  i  5      1 1    '  in! 


Uulvio.  Cboatt-.  Jr.,  Ncrve  I 
tii,.tiacli'm.    II'-'.  w  t'-' 

foi'gii  ill  at  t\)Q  Uiai-.  U)"'{. 
<  v;i]!rr'Moun?:ui5.     Hi 


'OUUS'-V»n    :j:^ 


t:.L?i,  iQ 


bitter  ;h;>l 


i:n.: 


Vfte 


r 


.1 


tli 


1 1 


/   ' 


i  r 

ii; 


I  r 


llili  t. 


REPRESENTED  IN  THE    WAR. 


203 


a  long  illness,  he  died  on  the  1-jth  of  January, 
18G6. 

Major  Bell  was  a  member  of  General  Butler's 
staff  at  New  Orleans,  and  acted  as  provost  judge 
with  great  acceptance.  After  returning  to  Vir- 
ginia, he  was  stricken  with  paralysis  while  presid- 
ing over  an  important  trial  at  Norfolk.  After  a 
time  he  was  brought  home.  He  remained  an  in- 
valid until  his  death  on  the  10th  of  September, 
1868. 

By  a  merciful  dispensation,  it  was  thus  given 
to  those  loyal  and  devoted  men  to  die  in  the  pres- 
ence of  loving  friends.  Thus  also  it  was  given  to 
Rufus  Choate  himself,  who  had  in  the  spirit  of 
his  life  fought  for  the  Union,  to  be  represented 
in  the  final  struggle  for  its  preservation.  Had  he 
been  alive,  what  more  could  he  have  done,  what 
other  sacrifice  could  he  have  offered  up,  for  that 
Union  and  the  Constitution  ? 


ii 


ii 


■b  - 


I 


I  i- 


m 


1 ; 

f  *  i 


\  i 


li-    ^  ^^ 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Rufus  Choate  and  Lord  Macaulay :  a  Contrast.* 

The  double  relation  wliicli  distingiiislied  men 
have  held  to  other  men  often  excites  curiosity  and 
regret.  Their  public  life  and  service  may  be  well 
known,  their  private  life  and  character,  however 
worthy,  may  remain  unknown.  The  information 
is  generally  sought  for  in  biographies.  But  the 
veil  which  separates  those  conditions,  or  states  of 
being,  may  intervene  even  between  friends,  and 
limit  or  qualify  the  most  faithful  revelations.  We 
may  well  be  grateful,  however,  for  delineations  by 
writers  of  taste  and  judgment,  who  knew,  as  well 
as  could  be  known,  the  men  whose  genius  and 
character  they  have  earnestly  and  lovingly  sought 
to  commemorate.  Thus  could  Professor  Brown 
write  of  Rufus  Choate,  and  Mr.  Trevelyan  of  Lord 
Macaulay. 

The  work  by  Trevelyan  was  necessary.  It  was 
well  that  something  more  definite  and  personal 
than  had  been  learned  from  Carlisle,  Arnold,  and 

1  This  paper  was  written  before  the  previous  chapters  and  for  sep- 
arate use. 


'  l)<  »l 


If 


MACAULArS  SELF-ESTIMATE. 


205 


Cockbiirn  .slioukl  be  known  of  Macaulay.  Beyond 
casual  references,  some  sketclies,  and  a  few  anec- 
dotes, grown  so  familiar  that  no  prudent  diner-out 
would  venture  to  repeat  them,  we  knew  him  from 
his  speeches  and  course  in  Parliament,  his  Essays 
and  Reviews,  his  services  in  India,  and  from  the 
History.  But  tiie  inferences  to  be  drawn  were 
general ;  the  veil  behind  which  lay  his  private  life 
remained  undisturbed.  As  an  author,  he  came  to 
us  after  elal)orate  preparation,  as  if  in  state  dress, 
and  took  the  reading  public  by  storm.  His  writ- 
ings had  a  fascination  strong  enough  to  divert  stu- 
dents from  their  lessons,  the  readers  of  romantic 
tales  from  their  dissipations.  At  the  time  when 
he  was  expressing  to  Mr.  Everett  his  surprise  that 
any  but  "  a  few  highly  educated  men  "  in  this 
country  were  interested  in  his  History,  our 
wives  and  daughters  were  reading  it.  It  seems 
incredible  that  he  could  have  thought  his  work 
too  profound  or  "  insular  in  spirit "  for  general 
readers ;  a  history  which,  though  dealing  with 
principles  in  large  relations,  appealed  strongly 
to  the  imagination,  gave  tho  lomantic  side  of 
events,  and,  in  highly  wrought  and  felicitous  de- 
scriptions, called,  from  the  depths  of  the  past, 
forms  regal  in  their  adornment  and  beauty.  But 
in  calmer  hours,  Mr.  Macaulay  may  have  had  a 
just  estimate  of  his  labors.     He  must  have  knov  n 


! 

'    1 

M 

* 

> 

ii!i 


1 1 

\-\\ 


''! 


!'! 


r         f 


■■]-    :      ■■ 


>    i 


,11M 


if! ,  I 


ni'  ■ 


i!^ 


i  .'^  t 


V 


206 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


that  his  services  in  Parliament  had  boon  of  less 
value  and  importance  than  these  of  Brougham  ; 
that  he  had  lacked  the  almost  proph  '*"  uppre- 
hension,  the  logical  precision,  the  iK^.^iiony  of 
thought  and  expression  of  Edmund  Burke;  and 
that  his  Essays,  rich  in  poetic  sentiment  and  illus- 
tration, his  criticisms,  more  acrid  to  the  taste  than 
the  invectives  of  Junius,  could  not  take  deep  root 
in  firm  soil.  But,  in  the  retrospect,  he  was,  no 
doubt,  satisfied  with  the  policy  which  had  led  him 
to  seek  relation  with  the  names  of  some  of  the 
men  who  had  helped  to  shape  history,  as  well  as 
with  an  interesting  period  of  the  natio^  l  life  of 
England.  In  that  he  was  wise,  as  th  iserva- 
tive  element,  respected  by  time,  lies  in  the  na- 
ture of  the  subject  rather  than  in  an  author's 
mode  of  treatment.  Macaulay's  verses  will  be 
read,  as  they  are  the  "  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome  ;  " 
his  History  will  be  known  when  most  of  his  other 
writings  are  forgotten.  In  the  coming  genera- 
tions, none  will  care  whether  Croker  was  a  bad 
fellow,  and  ignorant  of  Greek ;  whether  Barere, 
when  he  ceased  to  write  trifles,  began  to  write 
lies ;  whether  Robert  Montgomery  was  a  poet  or 
not. 

But  Macaulay's  strongest  claim  to  remembrance 
rests  on  his  services  in  India.  He  thus  won  a 
place  in  legal  history.     But  for  that  service,  we 


CLOSE  RELATION  OF  NATURAL   CilFTS.     207 


should  luivo  no  pride  in  the  fact  that  he  was  a 
lawyer,  and  be  less  ready,  perhaps,  to  recognize 
the  resenihlanceH  and  the  contrasts  which  existed 
between  some  of  his  characteristics  and  those  of 
Rufus  Choate.  Not  that  they  liad  anything  in 
connnon,  as  lawyers,  save  in  their  mastery  of 
legal  principles  applied  by  the  one  in  his  labors 
in  India,  illustrated  by  the  other  in  the  hibors  of 
his  life.  Mr.  Choate  never  had  occasion  to  frame 
a  code  for  a  peculiar  people.  Mr.  Macaulay,  hav- 
ing been  called  to  the  English  bar,  held  a  short 
and  silent  flirtation  with  his  mistress,  the  law,  and, 
finding  her  coy  and  cold,  gave  her  up.  He  had, 
indeed,  one  case  in  court  and  but  one.  There 
was,  therefore,  nothing  like  professional  brother- 
hood between  him  and  Mr.  Choate.  The  likeness 
and  unlikeness,  material  to  our  purpose,  are  to  be 
found  elsewhere. 

They  were  fortunate  in  their  lineage ;  each 
came  of  good  stock.  They  had  admirable  train- 
ing at  home,  cherished  great  love  for  those  related 
to  them  by  family  ties,  and  were  blessed  in  the 
return  of  that  love.  With  a  poetic  temperament, 
exquisite  sensibility,  and  a  fondness  for  the  ro- 
mantic, were  united  loyalty  to  the  truth,  and 
aversion  to  everything  like  duplicity,  or  artifice 
in  life  and  conduct.  They  also  had  great  indus- 
try, devotion  to  study,  and  desire  to  excel.     But 


I 

I  \      if 


.:!i 


!l! 


! 


■-,  !, 

I'll ! 


i    4  i 


ir 


208 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C HO  ATE. 


■I 


nature,  as  if  to'  perfect  her  work,  and  set  these, 
her  favorite  children,  quite  apart  from  others, 
gave  to  each  of  them  great,  indeed  marvelous, 
powers  of  memory.  In  their  boyhood  they  be- 
came so  familiar  with  Bunyan's  Pilgrim  that  they 
could  recite  most  of  it.  Later  in  life,  they  appre- 
hended and  retained  the  sense  of  what  they  had 
rapidly  or  casually  read,  and  could  recall  the  dates 
and  the  relations  of  events.  Instances  illustrative 
of  such  powers,  when  suddenly  called  into  exercise, 
have  been  given  by  their  biographers.  In  speak- 
ing of  his  knowledge  of  certain  books,  Mr.  Macau- 
lay  said  that  if,  by  some  miracle  of  Vandalism, 
they  were  destroyed  off  the  face  of  the  earth,  he 
could,  from  memory,  reproduce  them.  It  is  quite 
possible  that  Mr.  Choate  could  have  made  a  like 
boast,  if  he  had  allowed  himself  to  speak  of  the 
extent  of  his  own  acquisitions.  It  appears  that 
what  he  had  read,  and  considered  worthy  of  atten- 
tion, he  remembered  to  a  remarkable  extent,  and 
could  use  with  precision,  ease,  and  celerity.  That 
is  clearly  shown  in  some  of  his  speeches  delivered 
in  the  heat  and  pressure  of  debate.  The  powers 
of  memory  possessed  by  Choate  and  Macaulay 
challenge  our  admiration,  however,  not  simply  be- 
cause they  were  marvelous  in  sudden  and  signal 
display  but  because  of  their  healthy  origin  and 
growth  J  they  were  held  to  the  last  in  perfect  co- 


COMPARISON  OF  THEIR   WORK. 

ordination  with  tlieir  other  powers.  Both  were  ar- 
dently devoted  to  classical  studies,  had  an  intimate 
acquaintance  with  the  Latin  and  the  Greek,  and 
knew  something  of  some  other  languages.  They 
did  not  take  up  the  German  early  in  life ;  —  Mr. 
Choate  studied  it  with  his  daughter,  Mr.  MacauLiy 
on  his  return  voyage  from  India,  and  after  his 
method  of  beginning  with  the  Bible,  which  he 
could  read  without  a  dictionary.  In  some  respects 
he  was  more  fortunate  than  Mr.  Choate.  lie  had 
more  leisure,  a  larger  acquaintance  with  learned 
men  and  with  society,  and  should  have  attained 
a  higher  and  broader  culture.  He  had  access  to 
many  books  which  could  not  be  found  in  this  coun- 
try, but  was  a  mere  reader  of  some  works  of  im- 
portance, which  Mr.  Choate  studied,  and  in  parts 
translated.  He  wrote  out  his  speeches,  and  revised 
them  for  the  press,  and  with  care  treasured  up  his 
thouixhts  and  words.  Mr.  Choate  let  his  thouurhts 
and  words  —  many  speeches  and  arguments  which 
had  excited  unbounded  enthusiasm  in  learned  men 
and  severe  judges  —  go  to  the  winds  as  uttered. 
That  economy  and  the  want  of  it  bore  their  ap- 
propriate fruits.  Mr.  Macaulay's  name  became  fa- 
miliar in  every  household.  Mr  Choate's  merits,  if 
not  his  namc;  would  have  passed  out  of  mind,  but 
for  the  zeal  of  his  friend  and  biographer,  who  illus- 

14 


fell 


i  ! 


;     ! 


Ml 


li 


i  t: 


I  ! 


h  ^  '  f 


(; 


:i     . 


'] 


210 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


trated  his  virtues,  and  collected  mere  fragments  of 
his  works. 

But,  now  that  Mr.  Treveljan  gives  us  the  let- 
ters, diary,  and  journal  of  Macaulaj,  as  Professor 
Brown  had  given  us  those  of  Clioate  —  the  same 
forms  of  literary  labor,  representing  more  truly 
than  other  forms  the  habits  ot  nought,  and  modes 
of  expression  peculiar  to  each  of  them  —  the 
reader  may  consider  their  relative  merits.  After 
lingering  over  and  seeking  to  compare  their  work, 
our  conviction  is  that  in  the  simplicity  and  un- 
studied grace  of  his  letters,  in  the  earnest  purpose 
and  profound  study  disclosed  in  his  diary,  in  the 
descriptions,  criticisms,  and  suggestions  recorded 
in  his  Journal,  in  tone  and  spirit,  in  the  use  of 
clear,  compact,  nervous,  beautiful,  yet  simple  Eng- 
lish, Mr.  Choate  appears  to  greater  advantage 
than  j\Ir.  Macaulay. 

Mr.  Choate's  suggestion,  that  one  who  would 
write  well  should  write  slowly,  had  respect  to  the 
example  of  some  great  authors  —  Sallust,  Virgil, 
Tacitus  —  as  well  as  to  the  instructions  of  Cicero 
and  of  Quintilian.  The  virtue  of  such  delibera- 
tion was  recognized  by  Mr.  Macaulay.  When  the 
materials  for  his  History  had  been  collected  and 
arranged,  his  task  was  to  write  two  pages  daily ; 
and,  in  one  instance,  after  having  been  engaged 
nineteen  days  on  thirty  pages,  he  was  not  satisfied 


USE  OF  FOREIGN  TERMS. 


211 


with  the  character  of  his  work.  The  habits  of 
Burke,  Bossuet,  Gibbon,  and  others,  in  correcting 
their  compositions,  are  well  known.  Macaiilay 
bettered  the  instruction.  lie  was  constantly  re- 
vising his  work.  Having  stated  in  his  diary  the 
time  by  which  the  third  volume  of  his  History 
might  be  written  —  "  rough-hewn  "  —  he  adds, 
"Of  course  tl  ;  polishing  and  retouching  will  be 
an  immense  labor."  Of  that  care  and  industry, 
great  certainly,  and  worthy  of  commendation,  Mr. 
Thackeray,  with  characteristic  extravagance,  said, 
"  He  reads  twenty  books  to  write  a  sentence  ;  he 
travels  a  hundred  miles  to  make  a  line  of  descrip- 
tion." 

By  his  example,  Mr.  Macaulay  has  happily  put 
in  a  protest  against  the  free  use,  by  English  writ- 
ers, of  words  and  phrases  from  other  languages. 
With  reasonable  success,  he  resisted  the  tempta- 
tion to  indulge  in  such  quotations.  That  was  no 
slight  victory  as,  with  his  well-stored  and  active 
memory,  such  words  and  phrases,  often  laden  with 
a  delicacy  and  fragrance  not  to  be  retained  in  any 
translation,  must  have  frequently  occurred  to  him. 
Mr.  Choate  had  not,  in  equal  degree,  that  power 
of  resistance.  In  pages  of  his  Journal,  and  in 
some  of  his  arguments,  we  do  not  find  him  using 
foreign  words,  nor  need  he  ever  have  used  them. 
But,  when   he   did  so,  it  was  the  well-accepted 


T'  m 


f  • 


'  I-  ■  I  f 


It; 


f'Hil 


! 


u 


t  . 


ii 


i 


1  ,   . 

I 


i^    \ 


212 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


aphorism,  the  ripe  fruit  of  ancient  experience,  to 
which  he  stood  related  as  an  heir,  that  he  wished 
to  appropriate.  The  maxim  or  precept  pressing 
upon  his  mind  had  1)een  so  familiar  that  he  was 
led  to  take  it  in  its  old  attire,  as  an  imperial  hand 
might  accept  tribute  in  a  foreign  coin.  But  he 
applied  freely,  and  in  simple  English,  the  teach- 
in<i:s  of  the  old  masters.  The  foreitj^n  word  or 
phrase,  when  used,  was  a  mere  adjunct,  an  ad- 
ditional rap  of  the  hammer  after  the  nail  had 
been  driven,  —  the  argument  complete  without  it, 
the  terms  luminous,  the  sense  transparent.  He 
was,  therefore,  always  understood  even  by  those 
wdio  knew  nothing  of  Latin  or  Greek.  It  may 
be  inferred  from  the  directness  and  ease  with 
which  he  continually  expressed  in  English  the 
most  subtile  thousiihts  and  distinctions  that  he 
never  could  have  been  conscious  of  anything 
like  poverty  in  our  language.  It  served  him  in 
a  spirit  of  entire  obedience.  He  illustrated  its 
strength,  contributed  to  its  wealth  and  dignity. 
His  pride  in  it  would  seem  to  have  been  intense, 
his  faith  in  its  mission  unfaltering,  his  ideal  of  it 
akin  to  that  perfection  which  Cicero  may  have 
had  in  view,  when  he  extolled  the  discourse  of  an 
old  philosopher  as  a  river  of  flowing  gold.  Mr. 
Choate  has  left  us  some  of  the  best  specimens  of 
modern  English.     But  he  had  not,  like  Macaulay 


METHODS  OF   WORK. 


213 


or  Yirgil,  the  leisure  to  give  a  day  to  the  writing 
of  two  pages,  or  of  two  verses,  or  even  to  revise 
and  polish  much  that  he  had  written.  Some  of 
his  best  lectures  and  arguments  were  prepared  in 
the  short  intervals  of  professional  toil.  The  wise 
counsel,  the  profound  deduction,  the  brilliant 
thought  and  illustration,  the  exceeding  grace  and 
beauty  of  expression,  "  skiey  sentences,  aerolites, 
which  seem  to  have  fallen  out  of  Heaven,"  were 
conceived  while  the  pen  was  doing  its  rapid  work, 
or  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment  when  he  was 
speaking.  A  friend  found  him  in  the  night  sit- 
ting up  in  bed,  writing.^  He  could  only  thus  make 
up  for  delay  which  other  duties  had  imposed.  He 
was  preparing  the  eulogy  of  Daniel  Webster,  to 
be  delivered  at  Dartmouth  College.  When,  some 
days  later,  before  an  audience  representing  the 
highest  culture  known  among  us,  he  had  set  forth 
the  life  and  character  of  Mr.  We])ster,  according 
to  his  conception  of  them  —  the  profound  study 
and  discernment,  the  long,  patient,  patriotic  ser- 
vice, the  great  example,  the  loss  "  incapable  of 
repair,"  the  love  and  reverence  due  to  his  memory 
then  and  evermore,  —  the  audience  drawn  into 
profound  sympathy  with  the  subject,  strong  men 
in  tears,  —  Mr.  Clioate,  as  if  the  fervent  thoughts 
that  possessed  him  demanded  more  free  utterance 

i  Edward  Ellerton  Pratt. 


m 


i  ::l 


It 


'I  ^W 


1 : 


1  * 

i  I'' 


1  1) 


>t 


.  i 


^li 


Mi 


cli 


Ill 


t  i' 


r 


f1 

i^ 

; 

i 

!■■■ 

''i 

f 

1 

i 

1 

^■- 

%' 

i 

1 

fl 

f^:       ^ 

i 

f' 

'?' 

i 

li-: 

214 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


from  the  heart,  cast  aside  his  notes,  and  gave  his 
peroration  without  tliem. 

Some  significant  words  as  to  the  rehition  of  our 
language  to  the  Bible  deserve  attention.  After  a 
conversation  with  Lady  Holland,  in  which  she  had 
condemned  the  use  of  such  words  as  "  constitu- 
ency," "  talented,"  "  gentlemanly,"  Mr.  Macaulay 
says,  "  I  did  not  tell  her,  though  I  might  have 
done  so,  that  a  person  who  professes  to  be  a  critic 
in  the  delicacies  of  the  English  language  ought  to 
have  the  Bible  at  his  fingers'  ends."  Speaking  of 
the  Bible  in  schools,  Mr.  Choate  says,  "  I  would 
have  it  read  not  only  for  its  authoritative  revela- 
tions and  its  commands  and  exactions,  obligatory 
yesterday^Jto-day,  and  forever,  but  for  its  English, 
for  its  literature,  for  its  pathos,  for  its  dim  im- 
agery, its  sayings  of  consolation  and  wisdom  and 
universal  truth."  ^  He  read  it  daily.  Something 
of  the  spirit  of  it  pervades  his  speeches  sugges- 
tively, giving  tone  and  an  air  of  authority  to  the 
argument.  That  is  especially  so  in  those  sjieeches 
in  which  he  illustrated  the  character  of  our  Pil- 
grim Fathers,  their  faith  and  endurance,  the  bless- 
ings of  peace,  of  education,  and  of  the  law.  In 
his  references  to  favorite  authors,  his  admira- 
t,  if  not  amountin":  to  hero-^^ 


gi 


ship 


'  See  Dr.  Spear's  Religion  and  (he  State,  as  to  the  Bible  in  our 
public  schools. 


^ 


i 


PARADISE  REGAINED. 


215 


yet  assigns  them  a  subordinate  place.  Thus,  in 
noting  in  his  Journal  his  morning's  study,  he 
refers  to  Milton.  "  I  read,  besides  my  lessons, 
the  temptation  in  Matthew,  Mark,  and  Luke,  in 
the  Greek  ;  and  then  that  grand  and  grave  poem 
which  Milton  has  built  upon  those  few  and  awful 
verses  —  '  Paradise  Regained.'  I  recognize  and 
profoundly  venerate  the  vast  poetical  luminary 
'  in  this  more  pleasing  light,  shadowy.'  Epic  sub- 
limity the  subject  excludes ;  the  anxious  and 
changeful  interests  of  the  drama  are  not  there. 
It  su<>:n:ests  an  occasional  recollection  of  the  book 
of  Job,  but  how  far  short  of  its  pathos,  its  agen- 
cies, its  voices  of  human  sorrow  and  doubt  and  cu- 
riosity, and  its  occasional,  unapproachable  grand- 
eur !  Yet  it  is  of  the  most  sustained  elesxance  of 
expression.  It  is  strewn  and  burning  with  the 
pearl  and  gold  of  the  richest  and  loftiest  and  best 
instructed  of  human  miagi nations." 

Mr.  Choate  had  faith  in  the  inspiration  of  the 
Scriptures  and  in  the  scheme  of  redemption.  He 
had  a  profound  reverence  for  "  the  foolishness  of 
preaching."  He  attended  faithfully,  for  years, 
the  church  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Adams  in  Boston.  On 
the  hearing  of  the  last  case  in  which  he  appeared 
as  counsel  at  New  York,  Mr.  Choate  was  ill,  and 
the  court  adjourned  over  from  Friday  morning  to 
Monday,  when  he  proceeded  with  his  argument. 


:  .  i 


I   ! 


t  ia ' 


I 


MH 


?; 


l!      ^. 


til 


216 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  ClIOATE.. 


But  on  the  intervening  Sunday,  I  met  him  at  the 
old  Briclv  Church  ;  where,  though  nervous  and 
suffering,  he  hstened  devoutly,  to  a  plain  sermon 
by  the  liev.  Gardiner  Spring.  If  Mr.  Macaulay 
had  like  faith,  he  had  not  like  reverence.  He  re- 
garded ecclesiastical  matters  "  exclusively  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  state;"  a  sermon  as  an 
intellectual  performance.  If  the  discourse  was 
learned  and  fine,  it  was  well  to  be  in  church. 
He  leaves  a  record  of  two  occasions  when  he  was 
there  —  the  one  on  a  day  appointed  for  national 
humiliation  and  prayer  —  and  he  says,  "  Nothing 
could  be  more  solenm  and  earnest  than  the  as- 
pect of  the  congregation,  which  was  numerous. 
The  sermon  was  detestable  ;  ignorance,  stupidity, 
bigotry.  If  the  maxims  of  this  fool,"  etc.  On 
the  other  occasion,  the  preacher  was  dull,  and 
Macaulay  says,  "  I  withdrew  my  attention  and 
read  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans.  I  was  much 
struck  by  the  eloquence  and  force  of  some  pas- 
sao-es."  "  I  know  of  few  thimi-s  finer  than  the  end 
of  the  first  chapter  and  the  '  Who  shall  separate 
lis  from  the  love  of  Christ  ? '  "  We  do  not  pause 
to  inquire  when  and  where  he  knew  the  finer 
things,  however  few,  being  in  turn  much  struck 
by  the  deference  he  so  loftily  pays  to  "  the  elo- 
quence and  force  of  some  passages."  We  recall 
nothing   so  exquisitely  complaisant   in  Hume  or 


11  il 
IP  wM 


AX   IRRITATING   QUESTIOX. 


217 


Gibbon,  and  confess  that  no  such  generous  criti- 
cism could  have  been  conceived  or  perpetrated  by 
Rufus  Choate. 

A  sensible  man  always  respects  the  delicacy  of 
the  situation  in  which  he  may  be  placed,  quiets  a 
difficulty,  and  smoothes  over  an  impertinence.  Mr, 
Choate  wiis  so  fortunate  in  observing  the  "due 
temperance  "  that  his  life  never  rose  to  the  dig- 
nity of  a  single  quarrel ;  yet  his  patience  was  often 
severely  tried  in  the  courts,  in  the  Senate,  and  in 
popular  assemblies.  But  it  may  be  well  to  observe 
how  easily  Macaulay  could  get  up  trouble  by  evad- 
ing or  answering  a  simple  question.  At  a  public 
meeting,  an  elector  in  the  crowd  asked  what  his 
religious  creed  was.  Macaulay  cried  out,  '•  Let 
that  man  stand  up  where  I  can  see  him."  It  was 
a  Methodist  preacher.  They  hoisted  him  up  on  a 
form,  and  Macaulay,  inveighing  against  bigotry, 
poured  out  a  torrent  of  reproaches,  and  finally 
declared,  "  Gentlemen,  I  am  a  Christian."  The 
poor  preacher,  about  to  be  roughly  handled  by 
the  fellows  near  him,  slid  down  and  crept  away. 
The  crowd  cheered,  perhaps  because  of  Macau- 
lay's  virtuous  indignation,  perhaps  because  of  the 
vital  discovery  that  had  been  made.  "We  think 
Mr.  Choate  would  have  answered  such  a  question 
without  heat  or  irritation. 

At  an  early  day,  Macaulay  was  admonished  to 


1  !;l 


. 


11 


i., 


1 

t, 

,    1 

!  . 


..1« 


■  i 


218 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


improve  his  temper.  Later,  Disnieli  said,  "  He 
mu.st  get  rid  of  his  rabidity."  Sydney  Smith  told 
hiin  that  his  "  great  danger  was  tliat  of  taking  a 
tone  of  too  much  asperity  and  contempt  in  contro- 
versy." As  we  are  contrasting  him  witli  one  who 
never  needed  siicli  advice,  who  never  had  a  re- 
venge to  gratify  or  an  enemy  to  pursue,  the  llower 
and  fruit  of  that  rabidity,  asperity,  and  contempt, 
as  shown  in  Macaulay's  treatment  of  others,  de- 
serve notice.  We  do  not  pause  to  ask  whether 
the  studied  denunciation  of  Mr.  Croker  or  of  Rob- 
ert Montgomery,  running  tlirough  a  dozen  pages 
or  so,  had  or  had  not  some  justice  to  quahfy  the 
apparent  malignity.  All  that  could  bo  allowed  to 
pass  as  belonging  to,  even  if  not  dignifying,  criti- 
cism. But  not  until  Mr.  Trevelyan  had  unrolled 
the  record  for  inspection,  did  we  know  that  Ma- 
canlay  could  go  so  far  beyond  the  office  of  the 
critic  as  to  treasure  up  bitter  personal  animosities, 
and  that,  writing  in  quiet  hours,  he  could  illus- 
trate that  evil  temper  by  unbecoming  words.  He 
calls  Croker,  then  in  Parliament,  a  "  varlet;"  and 
says,  "  I  detest  him  more  than  cold  boiled  veal." 
We  also  learn  that  Montgomery,  finding  the  ar- 
ticle denouncing  him  republished  and  hawked 
about,  the  bitter  cup  ever  held  to  his  lips,  was  in 
great  distress,  and  wrote  again  and  again  to  Ma- 
caulay  and  his  publisher,  asking  "  to  be  let  out  of 


A    TRIVIAL   SPITE. 


219 


the  pillory,"  and  that  Macaiilay  put  on  the  record, 
''  Never  with  my  consent."  While  we  turn  with 
repugnance  from  much  that  he  wrote  of  Lord 
Krougham,  we  (juote  a  few  words.  Macaulaysays 
of  him,  '•  lie  has  outlived  his  power  to  injure." 
Again,  ''  Strange  fellow!  his  powers  gone  ;  his  spite 
•  immortal ;  a  dead  nettle."  The  grounds  of  his 
liatred  of  that  great  man  were  trivial,  such  as  most 
persons  would  have  passed  over  in  silence.  We  are 
told  by  Macaulay  that  Lord  Brougham  thought 
that  the' seat  given  to  him  in  Parliament  should 
have  been  given  to  another ;  that  Brougham  pro- 
fessed not  to  have  read  the  "Essays;"  had  not 
complimented  him  on  his  speeches  when  others 
had  done  so  ;  and  that  he  aspired  to  too  mncli  con- 
trol over  the  "  Edinburgh  Review."  Thus  Macau- 
lay  states  his  grievances,  distempered  dreams,  and 
rejoices  over  Brougham's  supposed  mental  as  well 
as  political  decline,  although  Brougham  had  been 
the  friend  of  Macaulay's  father,  and  had  favored 
his  projects.  How  much  more  graceful  and  be- 
coming if  Macaiday  had  been  silent,  or  had  treated 
Brougham  with  something  of  the  respect  Choate 
always  manifested  for  Daniel  Webster ! 

In  speaking  of  Rufus  Choate,  Mr.  Charles  G. 
Loring  said,  "  He  rarely  permitted  himself  to  in- 
dulge in  personalities,  and  never  in  those  of  an  of- 
fensive and  degrading  nature."     Mr.  Richard  H. 


I 


fii 


Mr 


.'lln 


iiil 


I     ! 


I 


220 


MEMUllIES   OF  RUFUS   C  HO  ATE. 


Diina,  Jr.,  asks,  ''  Who  ever  heard  from  liini  an  un- 
kind word?"  And  Pnjfessor  IJrown  says,  '•  llo 
never  spoke  ill  ot"  the  absent,  nor  would  sul't'er 
others  to  do  so  in  his  presence."  We  contrast 
with  .such  concurrent  testimony  what  jNIacaulay 
deliberately  wrote  of  other  members  of  Parlia- 
ment. In  a  letter  to  Ellis,  as  to  the  close  vote  on 
a  reform  bill,  he  says,  ''•  And  the  jaw  of  Peel  fell ; 
and  the  face  of  Twlss  was  as  the  face  of  a  danuied 
soul ;  and  Ilerries  looked  like  Judas  taking?  his 
necktie  off  for  the  last  operation." 

Since  Lord  Coke  announced  that  two  leaks 
would  drown  any  ship,  we  have  learned  that  the 
principle  admits  of  extended  application  ;  that  a 
single  flaw  will  spoil  a  mirror,  too  much  alloy  the 
largest  coin  in  the  realm,  and  that  a  spirit  of  rab- 
idity and  asperity  being  cherished  in  the  heart, 
other  evil  spirits  will  enter  in  and  take  possession. 
We  must  confess,  however,  that  w^e  always  re- 
garded Macaulay  gratefully  until  we  began  to  read 
his  letters,  diary,  and  journal,  and  that  from 
thenceforth  we  have  felt  great  concern  ns  to  Lis 
taste,  style,  and  manners. 

In  a  letter  to  his  sister,  M  ^y  mention  -i  his 

introduction  to  Lady  Ilollan  and  her  gracious 
invitation  to  Holland  House.  In  otl  ^r  letters,  he 
refers  to  his  visits  there  after  this  fashion :  "  I 
dined  yesterday  at  Holland  House )  all  lords  ex- 


AN"  UNGRATEFUL  GUEST. 


221 


copt  myself."  He  met  tliei'o  many  (listin.LriiislKMl 
persons;  for  the  first  time  licard  'J'alleyrand,  then 
famous,  talk,  and  tell  stories.  The  I'cader  of  the 
'•  Life  of  Sydney  Smith,"  by  his  dan^diter,  will  re- 
call his  estimate  of  the  honor  conferreil  u[)on  him 
when,  yoim^'  and  poor,  he  was  reeeived  into  tiiat 
society,  and  of  the  kindness  shown  him  bv  Lord 
and  Lady  Holland, —  a  <^rateful  and  beautiful  pic- 
ture. As  the  doors  of  ITolland  House  were  thrown 
wide  open  to  Macaulay,  and  as  he  was  treated  by 
Lord  and  Lady  Holland  as  a  son  might  have  been, 
that  sovereign  courtesy  shouhl  have  been  sufli- 
cient  to  inspire  in  one  fit  to  Ije  introduced  a  grate- 
ful respect,  a  decent  degree  of  reticence.  But 
what  record  does  Macaulay  leave  ?  The  little 
household  flurries  are  depicted ;  the  unguarded 
chat  and  prattle  of  the  most  gracious  hostess  that 
ever  smiled  a  welcome  to  her  guests  are  given ; 
her  freaks,  fears,  superstitions,  lamentations,  and 
"  her  tantrums  "  are  described,  even  to  the  extent 
of  saying  that  she  was  hysterical  about  Macaulay's 
going  to  Lidia,  and  had  to  be  soothed  by  Lord 
Holland.  No  zealous  attorney  was  ever  more 
faithful  in  getting  up  a  bill  of  particulars. 

Macaulay's  sorrow  for  the  dead  and  dj'ing  dig- 
nifies a  pathetic  letter  to  his  sister.  Thus  he 
writes :  "  Poor  Scott  is  gone,  and  I  cannot  be 
sorry  for  it.     A  powerful  mind  in  ruins  is  the 


<  I 


\\m 


't'li .; 


•  ■  i' 


■  ' 


,     f 


222 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE. 


'•i 


most  heart-breaking  tiling  win  ■!  it  is  possible 
to  conceive.  Ferdinand  of  Spain  is  gone,  too ; 
and  I  fear  old  Mr.  Stephen  is  going  fast.  I  am 
safe  for  Leeds.     Poor  Hyde  Villiers  is  very  ill." 

How  considerate  the  transition  from  the  want 
of  hope  for  others  to  his  own  flushing  hope  in  the 
coming  election  !  Through  the  dark  shadows,  t^^e 
light  breaks  in  so  naturally,  —  "  Don't  fret,  sister, 
I  am  safe  for  Leeds." 

Mr.  Clioate  read  with  discrimination  the  authors 
of  his  day.  Mr.  Trevelyan  says,  "  Macaulay  had 
a  very  slight  acquaintance  with  the  works  of  some 
among  the  best  writers  of  his  own  generation." 
But  his  reading  seems  to  have  been  incessant, 
fragmentary,  and  capricious.  He  says,  "  I  walked 
the  heath  in  glorious  weather,  and  read  '  The 
Mysteries  of  Paris.'  Sue  has  quite  put  poor 
Plato's  nose  out  of  joint."  Again,  he  says, 
"  Read  '  Northanger  Abbey ' ;  worth  all  Dickens 
and  Pliny  together.  Yet  it  was  the  work  of  a 
girl.  She  was  certainly  not  more  than  twenty- 
six.  Wonderful  creature  !  Finished  Plin3^  Cap- 
ital fellow,  Trajan,  and  deserving  of  a  better 
panegyric."  Most  scholars  have  been  satisfied 
with  the  picture  drawn  of  the  Emperor  Choate 
commended  Pliny  as  "  one  who  seldom  colored 
too  highly." 

Mr.   Choate  was  never  severe  as  a  critic ;   his 


f    !i 


Ml 


A   SEVERE  CRITIC. 


223 


dissatisfaction  was  always  expressed  in  becoming 
terms.  Mr.  Macaulay's  criticisms,  as  we  now  have 
them,  were  often  crude,  mere  freaks  of  fancy, 
rashly  and  rudely  stated.  Thus  he  says,  '•  Looked 
in  the  '  Life  of  Hugh  Blair,'  — a  stupid  book,  by 
a  stupid  man,  about  a  stupid  man."  Blair  was 
not  a  great  man,  but  he  was  always,  and  espe- 
cially in  his  style,  respectable.  His  first  volume 
of  "  Sermons "  was  published  on  the  advice  of 
Boctor  Johnson.  Macaulay  refers  to  two  of  Gib- 
bon's critics  thus :  "  Thai:  stupid  beast,  Joseph 
Milner."  "  But  Whitakcr  was  as  dirty  a  cur  as 
I  remember."  This  may  excite  surprise,  as  Ma- 
caulay remembered  so  many  curs.  He  puts  down 
some  men  as  beasts,  several  as  asses,  others  as 
curs.  The  association  brinii-s  to  mind  what  Cole- 
ridge  said  of  Burke,  in  his  public  character,  to 
wit,  "  That  he  found  himself,  as  it  were,  in 
Noah's  ark,  with  a  very  few  men  and  a  great 
many  beasts."  But  neither  of  those  critics  was 
stupid.  Mr.  Choate  thought  well  of  Milner,  and 
we  turn  poor  Whitaker  over  to  Mr.  Charles  But- 
ler, a  la.vyer,  a  great  controversialist,  one  who 
always  wrote  as  became  a  gentleman.  He  says, 
"Dr.  Whitaker's  criticism  of  his  (Gibbon's)  his- 
tory is  rough,  but  powerful." 

We  do  not  pause  to  illustrate  Macaulay's  ego- 
tism and  vanity  ;  the  proofs  cropping  out  in  many 


■  !■■  i! 


Mi 


% 


U 


! 


vl! 


i 


'W 


I, 


:i, 


dp 

■  ;  '       ! 

fUi 

1 

M 

1 
1 

I 

1 

« 

224 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


j)ages  of  his  letters  and  diary  would  be  burden- 
some. As  conipared  with  Macaulay's  self-lauda- 
tions, —  from  the  "  My  speech  has  set  me  in  th*^ 
front  rank,"  on  down  to  the  "  How  white  poor 
Peel  looked  while  I  was  speaking,"  and  to  the  two 
damsels  who,  having  paid  their  shilling  to  see  the 
hippopotamus,  abandoned  the  show  to  get  a  look 
at  Macaulay,  —  Mr.  Choate's  record  would  seem  to 
be  poor  indeed.  Not  a  shade  of  egotism  or  vanity 
was  ever  imputed  to  him.  Nor  need  we,  after  our 
quotations  from  Macaulay,  enforce  our  conviction 
that  his  style,  unlike  the  style  of  Mr.  Choate,  had 
caught  no  grace  from  Grecian  studies,  no  strength 
from  biblical  reading. 

The  spirit  of  grace  and  courtesy  which  indi- 
cates social  and  literary  refinement  in  a  man  not 
morbidly  selfish  shines  forth  in  his  words,  spoken 
or  written,  and  in  his  enforced  intercourse  with 
decent  strangers.  Mr.  Macaulay  has  given  us 
some  evidence  of  the  amenity  of  his  manners, 
when  he  was  approached  respectfully  by  persons 
wishing  to  do  him  honor.  He  says,  "  What  odd 
things  happen  !  Two  gentlemen,  or  at  least  two 
men  in  good  coats  and  hats,  overtook  me  as  I  was 
strolling  through  one  of  the  meadows  close  by  the 
river.  One  of  them  stared  at  me,  touched  his  hat, 
and  said,  '  Mr.  Macaulay,  I  believe.'  I  admitted 
the  truth  of  the  imputation.     So  the  fellow  went 


USES  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 


on,  '  I  suppose,  sir,'  "  etc.  But  he  soon  got  rid 
of  the  fellow.  Macaiilay  was  at  Rome,  and  says, 
"Yesterday  as  I  was  looking  at  some  superb  por- 
traits by  Raphael  and  Titian,  a  Yankee  clergyman 
introduced  himself  to  me  ;  told  me  that  he  had 
heard  who  I  was  ;  that  he  beffsjed  to  thank  me  for 
my  writings  in  the  name  of  his  countrymen.  I 
bowed,  thanked  him,  and  stole  away,  leaving  the 
Grand  Duke's  picture  a  great  deal  sooner  than  I 
had  intended."  In  contrast  with  these  exhibi- 
tions, the  statement  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Adams  may 
be  cited.  lie  said  that  Mr.  Choate  "  Treated 
every  man  as  thougli  he  were  a  gentleman  ;  and 
he  treated  every  gentleman  almost  as  he  would 
a  lady." 

The  poverty  which  often  attaches  to  biogra- 
phies qualifies,  in  some  aspects,  these  works  of 
Professor  Brown  and  Mr.  Trevelyan.  This  was 
unavoidable.  It  is  quite  apparent  that  no  one 
€■  'Id  fathom  the  mystery  of  Mr.  Clioate's  genius, 
or  state  its  precise  character.  His  friends  could 
only  wonder  and  admire,  —  seek  to  measure  its 
power  in  the  intellectual  performance.  Mr.  JMa- 
caulay  had,  from  first  to  last,  been  so  silent  in 
respect  to  a  matter  of  the  most  vital  concern,  as 
to  the  life  that  now  is  and  that  which  is  to  come, 
that  his  nearest  friends  coidd  make  no  discovery, 
his  biog.-apher  no  revelation. 

16 


i:r    f 


I'lh 


Lm'i'i 


i 


I'! 

jit  1 


)  ■' 


'n   i 


^1' 


!' 


226 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


But  no  one  ^vho  had  considered  Macaulay  in 
his  works  previously  published,  and  who  now  con- 
siders him  in  his  other  writings,  will  doubt  the 
uses  of  biography.  If  one  who  is  supposed  to 
give  tone  to  society  has  an  artificial  voice  full  of 
melody  when  abroad,  a  natural  voice  full  of  dis- 
cord when  at  home,  that  should  be  known.  If  an 
author,  who  has  beguiled  us  into  a  high  estimate 
of  his  merits,  appeared  as  a  poet  in  prose  as  well 
as  in  verse,  his  words  and  sentences  polished  and 
full  of  measured  sweetness,  —  "a  burnished  fly  in 
the  pride  of  May,"  — was,  in  reality,  weak  in  tone 
and  sentiment,  bitter  and  unforgiving,  ungrateful 
for  social  service  and  distinction,  often  rude  in 
manners,  and  as  a  writer,  and  in  his  natural, 
every-day  style,  was  diffuse  and  ungraceful,  if 
not  rough,  all  that  should  also  be  known.  If  such 
a  character  appears  in  its  true  light  when  con- 
trasted with  one  whose  life,  open  as  the  day,  was 
a  perpetual  benediction,  full  of  beneficent  influ- 
ences, inciting  to  everything  that  was  just,  loyal, 
noble  in  sentiment,  beautiful  in  speech,  uniform 
and  exemplary  in  conduct,  we  may  well  be  thank- 
ful that  biographies  could  be  written. 


LETTERS. 


I  ' 


i«l 


iiii 


LETTER  FROM  JOSHUA  M.  VAN  COTT. 


Mr.  Joshua  M.  Van  Cott,  having,  in  casual 
conversation,  mentioned  an  interesting  occasion 
when  he  heard  Mr.  Choate,  had  the  kindness,  at 
rffy  request,  to  send  me  this  note  —  he  calls  it  "  a 
scrap." 

In  December,  1843,  the  New  Englandors  in 
New  York  celebrated  the  anniversary  of  the  land- 
ing of  the  Pilgrims,  Rufus  Choate  being  the  ora- 
tor, and  his  theme,  "  The  Age  of  the  Pilgrims, 
our  Heroic  Period."  ^  The  oration  was  delivered 
in  the  old  Broadway  Tabernacle,  then  the  largest 
auditorium  in  the  city.  The  great  building  was 
crowded  to  hear  the  famous  speaker.  Mr.  Web- 
ster and  other  distinguished  public  men  were  on 
the  platform.  Mr.  Choate  was  then  in  his  prime, 
and  his  presence  was  hardly  less  striking  than 
that  of  the  great  expounder.  He  was  tall,  thin ; 
his  complexion  a  rich  olive  ;  his  eyes  large,  liq- 

^  Sec  the  oration   in  vol.  i.  of  Brown's  Life  and   Writings  of 
Choate. 


m 


1  iU 


- » 


\  ] 


230 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   C  HO  ATE. 


m 


iiid,  glowing ;  the  face  oriental,  rather  than  that 
of  an  American,  and  generally  rather  sad  than 
eager  and  passionate.  His  voice  was  a  rich  bari- 
tone, sonorous,  majestic,  finely  modulated,  and  in- 
imitable in  the  expression  of  pathos.  He  philo- 
sophically developed  the  rise  of  Puritanism  and 
the  causes  of  the  Pilgrim  emigration,  and  came 
down  to  the  Mayflower,  to  Miles  and  Rose  Stan- 
dish,  to  the  landing  at  Plymouth,  the  severity  of 
the  winter,  the  famine  and  the  sickness,  and  the 
many  deaths  —  fifty  out  of  a  hundred,  including 
that  of  the  beautiful  Eose  Standish.  Pausing, 
with  a  sad,  far-off  look  in  his  eyes,  as  if  the  vision 
had  suddenly  risen  upon  his  memory,  and  with  a 
voice  inexpressibly  sweet  and  pathetic,  he  said, 
"  In  a  late  visit  to  Plymouth  I  sought  the  spot 
where  these  earlier  dead  were  buried.  It  was  on 
a  bank  somewhat  elevated,  near,  fronting  and 
looking  upon  the  waves,  —  symbol  of  what  life 
had  been  to  them,  —  ascending  inland  behind  and 
above  the  Rock,  symbol  also  of  that  Rock  of  Ages 
on  which  the  dying  had  rested  in  that  final  hour." 
I  have  never  seen  an  audience  more  moved. 
The  orator  had  skillfully  led  up  to  this  passage, 
and  then,  with  a  voice  surcharged  with  emotion,  he 
thus  symbolized  the  stormy  and  tumultuous  life, 
the  sudden  and  sad  end,  and  the  heroic  faith  with 
which,  resting  upon  the  Rock  of  Ages,  they  had 


ii 


A   SYMPATHETIC  AUDIENCE. 


231 


i\:^  Mi 


lain  down  on  the  shore  of  the  Eternal  Sea.  As 
Choate  approached  the  chniax,  Webster's  emotion 
became  iincontrolhdjle ;  tlie  great  eyes  were  filled 
with  tears,  the  great  frame  shook ;  he  bowed  his 
head  to  conceal  his  face  in  his  liiit,  and  I  almost 
seemed  to  hear  his  sob.  The  audience  was  flooded 
with  tears,  a  handkerchief  at  every  face,  and  sighs 
and  sobs  soughed  through  the  house  like  the  wind 
in  the  tree-tops.  The  genius  of  the  orator  had 
transferred  us  to  the  spot,  and  we  saw  the  rocky 
shore,  and,  with  him,  mourned  the  early  dead. 

We  have  had  but  one  Ruf  us  Choate  ;  alas !  we 
shall  never  have  another.  We  have  had  powerful 
dialecticians,  such  as  Hamilton  and  Pinkney  and 
Webster ;  we  have  had  great  stump  speakers, 
such  as  Senator  Corwin  and  Sergeant  S.  Prentiss, 
but  none  who  could  sway  the  soul  like  the  great 
lawyer,  scholar,   statesman,    and   orator   of  New 


England. 


"  So  on  the  tip  of  his  subduing  tongue 
All  kinds  of  arguments  and  (jucstion  deep, 
All  replication  prompt,  and  reason  strong 
For  his  advantage  still  did  wake  and  sleep: 
To  make  the  weeper  laugh,  the  laugh<!r  weep, 
He  had  the  dialect  and  different  skill, 
Catching  all  passions  in  his  craft  of  will." 

Shakespkare's  Lufcr's  Complaint. 


">l  : 


(1  !■►■• 
i  ■ 


't:!f 


Ill 


LETTER  FROM  REV.  A.  P.  PUTNAM,   D.  D. 


"When  the  Rev.  A.  P.  Putnam,  D.  D.,  was  about 
leaving  Brooklyn  for  his  summer  vacati(.)n,  know- 
ing that  he  was  a  native  of  Danvers,  and  that  he 
proposed  to  remain  for  some  time  in  the  vicinity 
of  Mr.  Choate's  early  dwelling-place,  I  asked  him 
to  keep  in  mind  the  subject  to  which  these  arti- 
cles have  been  devoted,  and  to  favor  me,  at  his 
convenience,  with  such  impressions  as  occurred  to 
him  and  such  facts  as  he  miu'lit  learn.  I  grate- 
fully  acknowledge  the  kindly  and  generous  spirit 
in  which  he  has  complied  with  the  request. 

My  Dear  Judge,  —  I  beg  you  to  accept  my 
thanks  for  the  copies  which  you  have  kindly  sent 
of  "  The  Albany  Law  Journal,"  containing  your 
exceedingly  interesting  and  timely  articles  illus- 
trative of  the  life  and  character  of  Mr.  Choate. 
I  rejoice  that  your  efforts  to  rescue  so  much  valu- 
able testimony  to  his  worth  and  so  many  facts 
concerning  his  habits  and  historv,  before  those 
who  from  their  personal  friendship   or  acquaint- 


'%'  -i: 


i\ 


VISIT  TO  MR.    Clio  ATE. 


233 


ance  are  best  qualiliod  to  furnish  .such  iniiturial 
have  quite  passed  ol'l'  the  stage,  are  so  widely  and 
gratefully  appreciated.  Though  a  native  of  Dan- 
vcrs,  where  he  began  the  practice  of  the  law,  yet, 
while  he  was  there,  1  was  too  young  to  see  and 
hear  him  as  many  of  the  older  residents  were 
wont  to  do.  But  I  recall  how  frequently  he  was 
a  favorite  theme  of  conversation  with  my  father, 
who  was  associated  with  him  not  a  little  in  politi- 
cal and  town  affairs,  and  who  had  the  greatest  re- 
spect and  admiration  for  his  talents  and  virtues. 
After  he  removed  from  Salem  to  Ijoston,  the 
charm  of  the  man  and  of  his  eloquence  lingered 
long  in  the  minds  of  all  classes  of  people  in  Essex 
County,  and  stories  of  his  early  successes  at  the 
bar  and  predictions  of  his  brilliant  future  contin- 
ued to  be  rife  in  and  about  the  scenes  of  his  open- 
ing professional  career.  I  well  remember  how,  on 
one  occasion,  when,  thirty  or  forty  years  ago,  he 
came  from  Boston  to  Danvers  to  try  a  case  of 
local  interest,  a  most  eager  desire  to  see  him  was 
manifested  by  the  villagers,  who  assembled  about 
the  hotel  to  witness  his  arrival,  and  then  crowded 
into  the  hall  to  listen  to  his  argument.  I  was 
myself  but  a  boy  in  the  thronged  apartment,  and 
have  no  very  distinct  recollection  of  what  he  said 
at  the  time  ;  but  I  shall  never  lose  the  impression 
which  his  look,  manner,  and  voice  made  upon  me. 


■  vlll 


i^!i 


,  ( , 


ni! 


234 


MEMORIES  OF  nUFUS  CIIOATK. 


!        1 


In  form,  feutiire,  and  expros.s'ion  lie  whs  tlien  the 
perfection  of  nuinly  beauty,  while  he  had  already 
won  an  enviable  fame  as  an  orator  and  advocate. 
Loni?  afterward  it  fell  to  me  to  go  to  the  city  to 
cn'-iiire  him  for  a  lecture.  1  found  him  at  home, 
.seated  in  a  soft,  comfortable  arm-chair,  and  suffer- 
ing severely  from  neuralgic  pains  in  his  head. 
The  brief  interview  is  precious  to  me  in  memory, 
as  well  because  it  was  the  only  opportunity  that 
was  ever  permitted  me  to  exchange  words  with 
him  as  because  he  seized  the  moment  to  pay  a 
tender  tribute  of  esteem  and  affection  to  one  who 
had  recently  died,  and  who  was  yet  dearer  to  me 
than  to  himself.  I  always,  however,  sought  to 
hear  him  whenever  it  was  announced  that  he 
would  speak  in  public,  and  whenever  it  was  pos- 
sible for  me  to  be  present.  Some  of  his  later  po- 
litical speeches  found  no  response  in  one  of  my 
anti-slavery  convictions  ;  but  there  w\as  magic  in 
his  spell,  and  there  was  also  truth  in  the  man. 
For,  however  questionable  his  reasoning  may  now 
seem,  in  view  especially  of  all  that  has  since  oc- 
curred in  our  national  history,  who  can  for  a  mo- 
ment doubt  that  a  soul  so  sensitive  and  conserva- 
tive, yet  so  patriotic  and  unselfish  as  his,  must 
have  been  deeply  in  earnest,  as  he  foresaw  and 
dreaded  the  conflict  that  was  near  at  hand,  and 
did  all  that  he  could  to  stay  the  storm.     One  of 


in.  K 


COXSTITUTIOXAL  CONVENTIOX.  235 

the  ablest  utterances  I  ever  heard  from  him  was, 
I  think,  liis  speech  on  the  jiuhciary  question,  July 
14,  1803,  in  the  Massacliusetts  convention,  held 
during  that  year  in  IJoston,  lor  revising  and 
amending  the  state  Constitution.  It  was  an  ex- 
ceedingly  powerful  argument,  and  it  was  as  capti- 
vating in  style  and  delivery  as  it  wiis  sound  and 
irresistible  in  its  logic.  The  hall  of  the  House  of 
Representatives  was  crowded  in  lloor  and  in  gal- 
Ie>'v,  and  the  attention  of  all  was  riveted  to  the 
end.  Tlie  perforation  was  a  splendid  tribute  to 
the  people  of  Massachusetts,  and  ended  thus: 
"  They  have  nothing  timorous  in  them  as  touch- 
ing the  largest  liberty.  They  rather  like  the 
exhilaration  of  crowding  sail  on  the  noble  old 
ship,  and  giving  her  to  scud  away  before  a  four- 
teen-knot  breeze ;  but  they  know,  too,  if  the 
storm  comes  on  to  blow  and  the  masts  go  over- 
board, and.  the  gun  deck  is  rolled  under  water, 
and  the  lee  shore,  edged  with  foam,  thunders  un- 
der her  stern,  that  the  sheet  anchor  and  best 
bower  then  are  everything !  Give  them  good 
ground  tackle,  and  they  will  carry  her  round  the 
world  and  back  asjrain  till  there  shall  be  no  more 
sea."  The  effect  of  such  a  speech,  with  these 
concluding  words,  may  be  better  imagined  than 
described.  Immediately  as  he  finished  it,  he  put 
on  his  wraps,  even  though  it  was  summer,  and 


ii 


.11 


., 


nl 


iilli 

!  Ill 


I* 

ilt. 


if 


1 1 


23G 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


im 


>ii*y 


H   V 


m 


I  ■: 


m 


like  some  mysterious  personage  walked  out  of  the 
assembly,  followed  by  the  gaze  of  the  impressed 
and  admiring  multitude. 

His  judgment  respecting  one  of  the  notable 
men  of  the  convention  is  interesting.  The  towns 
and  cities  of  the  Conmion wealth  seemed  to  have 
vied  with  each  other  in  electing  as  members  their 
lerding  statesmen,  2:)oliticians,  lawyers,  jurists, 
scholars,  authors,  editors,  teachers,  reformers, 
clergyuien,  merchants,  or  farmers.  It  was  a  very 
remarkable  body  of  men,  and  among  them  were 
Rufus  Choate,  Charles  Sumner,  R.  II.  Dana,  Jr., 
Marcus  Morton,  Otis  P.  Lord,  Henry  Wilson, 
Charles  W.  Upham,  Benjamin  F.  Butler,  William 
Appleton,  J.  Thomas  Stevenson,  John  C.  Gray, 
Sidney  Bartlett,  N.  P.  Bai;ks,  Anson  Burlingame, 
Charles  Allen.  Samuel  A.  Elliot,  Georn-e  N.  Brisxgs, 
George  S.  Boutwell,  Henry  L.  Dawes,  F.  B.  Crown- 
inshield,  George  S-  Ilillard,  and  many  others  of 
state,  if  not  of  national,  reputation.  But  Mr. 
Choate  told  a  friend  of  mine,  who  was  a  member 
from  Roxbury,  that  the  man  who  was  the  ruling 
genius  of  the  bod}',  most  powerfully  controlling 
its  deliberations  and  shaping  its  proceedings,  hav- 
ing; the  most  thoroui2:h  knowledu-e  of  all  his  asso- 
ciates,  and  most  fertile  of  methods  in  adapting 
means  to  ends,  always  carrying  the  whole  busi- 
ness of  the  Convention  in  his  mind,  ever  watchino: 


o 


HIS  BIRTHPLACE, 


237 


his  opportunity,  and  never  failing  to  accomplisl" 
his  purpose,  was  Henry  Wilson.  Such  testimony 
from  such  authority,  with  regard  to  the  ''  Natick 
Cobbler,"  giving  him  so  proud  a  preeminence 
amidst  the  assembled  wisdom  of  the  State,  was  a 
tribute  indeed. 

While  spending  my  summer  vacation  at  Bev- 
erly a  few  months  ago,  I  took  the  cars  one  day 
for  Essex,  in  order  to  visit  the  spot  where  the 
great  advocate  was  born.  On  reaching  the  vil- 
lage, I  wont  with  a  friend  to  the  head  of  the 
creek  where  the  ship-builders  launch  their  barks, 
and  there  joining  two  of  Mr.  Choate's  nephews, 
Rufus  and  William,  we  rowed  together  down  the 
winding  stream  for  about  two  miles,  until  we 
came  to  the  small  bay  whose  waters  inclose  the 
island  on  which  he  first  saw  the  light,  and  which 
is  itself  shut  in  by  the  enfolding  arms  of  the  white 
sand  beaches  that  project  from,  or  lie  along,  the 
shore.  The  land  on  either  side,  as  we  proceeded 
on  our  way,  was  mostly  level  and  marshy,  but 
about  midway,  on  our  left,  it  rose  into  a  gentle 
swell,  and  was  largely  shaded  by  a  noble  ii;r  th 
of  walnut  trees,  presenting  a  lovely  site  for  a  suin- 
mer  residence.  It  was  long  a  cherished  dream  of 
Mr.  Choat;'s  —  to  which  his  biographer  makes  a 
passing  allusion  —  that  he  should  one  day  build 
himself  a  house  here,  where  he  might  each  year 


m 


i 


!■  ! 


S!f 


238 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


\m\' 


n ! 


\i-<  i 


iM'l 


u  t 


H!,' 


come  and  rest  a  while  from  his  arduous  profes- 
sional toils,  and  refresh  himself  with  the  cool  sea 
airs  and  the  old  familiar  scenes  of  his  infancy  and 
youth.  Yet  it  was  too  lonely  a  spot  for  the 
younger  members  of  the  family,  and  the  project 
was  never  realized.  Also  at  the  left,  and  within 
the  little  bay,  is  what  is  known  as  Dean's  Island, 
It  is  a  small  extent  of  land,  covered  with  trees 
and  entirely  uninhabited.  One  could  easily  be- 
lieve concerning  it  that  it  was  never  the  abode 
of  any  living  creature.  Mr.  Choate  was  one  day 
gliding  past  it,  in  company  with  the  nephev.  who 
bears  his  name,  and  was  hearing  the  latter  teil 
how  he  had  visited  the  silent  and  unfrequented 
spot.  It  w\as  at  a  tunc  when  the  cholera  was 
raging  in  various  parts  of  the  country,  and  was 
the  subject  of  general  and  anxious  remark,  and 
the  uncle,  affecting  a  great  horror  of  the  scourge, 
asked  with  a  touch  of  his  subdued  yet  delicious 
liumor,  "  And  Eufus,  did  you  find  any  cholera 
there  ?  " 

The  island  on  which  Mr.  Choate  was  born  is 
just  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  and  is  sep- 
arated from  the  mainland  by  a  wide  channel  of 
water  at  high  tide,  but  may  with  some  difficulty 
be  reached  with  a  horse  and  wagon  when  the  tide 
is  out.  Its  surface  consists  of  about  three  hundred 
acres,  and  the  whole  rises  into  a  well-rounded  ^m- 


M 


Clio  ATE  ISLAND. 


239 


inence,  whose  summit  must  ])e  about  two  hundred 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  water.  Its  bald,  naked 
aspect  is  quite  unrelieved  by  trees  or  vegetation, 
except  as  the  more  southern  slopes  are  brought 
under  some  degree  of  cultivation  by  those  who  oc- 
cupy the  three  farm-houses  situated  there.  In  one 
of  these  houses  llufus  Choate  was  born  ;  but  when 
he  was  only  six  months  old  the  family  removed  to 
the  village  where  he  grew  up  to  early  manhood. 
The  house  is  painted  white,  and  has  latterly  re- 
ceived a  piazza  on  the  front,  which  faces  the  south. 
The  larger  part  of  the  island  has  l)een  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  Choate  family  for  seven  genera- 
tions. Its  proper  name  is  "  Choate  Island,"  a 
name  to  which  the  .'acts  of  its  original  and  contin- 
ued proprietorship  well  entitled  it,  and  which  is 
actually  given  it  in  the  maps  of  the  Coast  Survey. 
A  considerable  portion  of  the  land  is  now  owned 
by  the  nephew,  Kufus.  His  illustrious  uncle  al- 
ways turned  to  his  birthplace  with  fond  alfection, 
and  was  wont  to  go  thither  in  the  sunnner  for  a 
time,  taking  with  him  some  books  and  friends.  It 
is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  spot  and  its  sur- 
roundings must  have  exercised  more  influence 
upon  his  mind  and  character  than  those  who  have 
written  about  him  have  been  wont  to  trace.  Who 
can  tell  how  much  of  the  marvelous  beauty  of  his 
lost  lecture  on  "  The  Romance  of   the  Sea,"  or 


H! 


m' 


! 


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210 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


how  much  of  tlic  pathos  or  -witchery  or  eloquence 
of  many  another  of  his  productions  must  have 
been  due  to  what,  in  youth,  as  in  niaturer  life,  he 
thus  often  saw  and  felt  there  at  his  '"  native  isle." 
From  the  brow  of  the  hill,  he  could  discern,  in 
clear  weather,  far  away  at  the  north,  the  moun- 
tains of  Maine  and  New  Hampshire.  Beyond  the 
marshes  and  the  village  that  lay  innnediately  at 
the  west,  he  coidd  see  not  a  few  of  the  towns  and 
villages  of  Essex  County,  numbering  many  a  glit- 
tering spire,  and  delight  himself  with  a  richly  di- 
versified and  most  pleasing  landscape.  Just  at 
the  southeast,  the  great  cape  extended  its  lofty 
ridge  far  out  toward  the  sea,  while  close  along  the 
nearer  shore  lay  various  larger  or  smaller  islands 
or  sand-bars,  with  their  white  cliffs  and  shining 
levels,  washed  on  the  one  side  by  the  waters  of 
several  rivers  that  poured  down  their  cm-rents 
from  the  interior,  and  on  the  other  by  the  waves 
of  the  ocean,  whose  vast  expanse,  l)roadening  to 
the  view,  specked  with  sails,  and  fascinating  with 
its  ever-changing  hues,  completed  the  circuit  of  the 
range.  In  all  this  scenery  there  was  a  l)readth 
and  a  variety,  a  certain  lonely  grandeur  and  per- 
petual revelation,  which,  for  one  who  was  such  an 
ardent  lover  of  nature,  and  who  was  so  susceptible 
and  imaginative  as  Mr.  Choate,  could  not  have 
failed  to  possess  an  indescribable  charm. 


EARLY  LETTERS. 


241 


We  drank  at  the  well  from  the  "  old  oaken 
bucket,  the  iron-bound  bucket,"  whose  water  was 
as  cool  and  reviving  as  that  which  at  Salisbury, 
N.  II.,  once  evoked  from  Mr.  Webster,  in  his  old 
age,  the  fervent  ejaculation,  "  This  water  of  my 
father's  well,  it  is  sweeter  than  the  nectar  of  the 
gods."  And  then  we  entered  the  house,  saw  the 
room  where  the  infant  Rufus  made  his  advent,  and 
the  other  apartments  which  have  been  so  familiar 
to  successive  generations  of  his  name,  listening  to 
many  an  interesting  story  of  the  lives  of  those  who 
have  there  had  their  home.  A  fresh  breeze  had 
sprung  up  as  we  returned  to  our  boat,  and  we 
were  borne  gayly  up  the  stream  down  which  we 
had  been  rowed.  We  took  tea  with  the  family  of 
the  late  David  Choate,  at  the  homestead  to  which 
Rufus  was  taken  when  an  infant,  and  which  was 
from  that  time  his  abode  until  he  went  forth  into 
the  wider  world.  It  was  [)leasant  to  talk  with 
such  of  the  nearest  relatives  of  the  departed  as  are 
still  living  in  Essex,  hear  them  speak  of  one  of 
whom  they  are  so  justly  proud,  and  see  the  memo- 
rials and  keepsakes  that  tell  of  their  love  for  him. 

Some  of  the  early  letters  of  Mr.  Choate  have 
come  to  light  since  Professor  Brown  published  his 
"  Memoirs."  These,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  they 
were  written,  chiefly,  in  his  school-day  life,  and  in 
consideration  of  the  paucity  of  such  materials  as 

16 


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242 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


are  illustrative  of  his  history,  may  be  regarded  as 
of  some  interest  and  importance,  though  there  is 
nothing  in  them  of  very  remarkable  significance. 
I  was  permitted  to  take  them  for  a  time  and  make 
such  use  of  them  as  I  might  see  fit.  A  few  ex- 
tracts from  them  may  prove  welcome  to  the  read- 
ers of  these  pages  as  showing  more  fully  his  hab- 
its of  study,  his  tastes  and  predilections,  and  his 
peculiarities  of  mind  in  that  formative  period  of 
his  lite.  It  is  possible  that  one  or  more  of  these 
letters  may  have  been  partly  given  in  some  form 
to  the  public  before,  but  I  am  not  aware  that  such 
has  really  been  the  case,  and  I  am  told  by  his 
nephew  that,  as  a  whole,  they  are  quite  unknown 
beyond  the  immediate  circle  of  his  friends  or  rela- 
tives. Some  of  them  abound  in  fun  and  absurd- 
ities. Others  are  thoughtful  and  sad.  Nearly  all 
of  them  indicate  an  original  cast  of  mind,  an  ear- 
nest love  of  knowledge,  and  a  strong  determina- 
tion to  conquer,  with  a  tender  and  ardent  affection 
for  his  home  and  the  dear  ones  who  were  there. 

The  first  is  dated  June  17,  1815,  and  was 
written  to  his  brother  David  from  Hampton,  N. 
H.,  where  he  was  fitting  himself  at  an  academy 
to  enter  college.  He  refers  at  the  outset  to  a 
charge  which  he  had  received  from  the  "  com- 
bined powers,"  or  "  the  folks,"  at  home,  that  he 
should  write  immediately  "a  long,  solid  letter." 


^ 


EARLY  LETTERS. 


243 


Then  he  proceeded  thus :  "  Did  you  ever  see  a 
definition  of  the  word  solid  f  If  not,  I  will  give 
you  one  from  Bailey's  Dictionary.  'Solid  (F. 
sollde,  L.  solidus),  massive,  hard,  firm,  strong, 
real,  substantial,  sound,  lasting.'  How,"  he  asks, 
"  can  I  build  a  '  solid  letter,'  then,  with  such  ma- 
terials as  these ;  viz.,  thin  paper,  no  bigger  than 
a  four  and  a  half  penny,  shallow  brain,  and  no  life 
at  all  ?  "  Instantly  he  dashes  off  into  a  strain  of 
bombast,  interspersed  with  quotations  about  the 
storms  and  desolations  of  winter  and  the  sunshine 
and  loveliness  of  the  season  that  had  succeeded, 
suggesting  that  it  may  all  serve  to  "  fill  up  "  what 
he  evidently  means  as  a  sort  of  burlesque  of  the 
thing  his  family  have  asked  for.  Toward  the  end 
of  the  letter,  he  writes  that  he  has  begun  the 
"  De  Oratore,"  and  hopes  soon  to  be  "  fit."  But 
he  depends  much  on  spending  a  month  or  two 
at  home  "•'  before  the  Dartmouth  '  Scrape  '  comes 
on."     He  is  now  in  the  sixteenth  year  of  his  age. 

Then  there  is  another  of  these  letters  from 
Hampton,  dated  July  20th  of  the  same  year, 
and  addressed  also  to  his  brother  David,  in  which 
he  debates  the  question,  in  lawyer-like  fashion, 
whether  he  shall  go  home  before  the  end  of  the 
quarter,  the  disputants  being  '"  liufus  &  /."  The 
reasons  for  his  going  prevail.  "  The  die  is  cast." 
He  says,  "  I  want  some  time  for  relaxation  and 


.  ■  ( 


i  I 


■'if   !    1- 


\:u 


244 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


ili 


^1 , 


!• 


!  .;• 


Fm-1^"      ' 


■  A 


delivery  from  purgatory  previous  to  besetting 
Dartmouth  College." 

He  entered  college  in  the  summer  of  1815,  and 
in  a  letter  written  from  Hanover  and  dated  De- 
cember 5,  1815,  he  gives  an  account  of  his  ex- 
penses, which  certainly  were  small  enough,  and 
arranges  with  his  brother  for  a  visit  home  early 
in  January.  He  adds,  "  Only  about  ten  or  twelve 
of  my  class  remain.  The  rest  have  taken  schools. 
How  thankful  ought  I  to  be  that  I  am  not  ohllrjed 
to  resort  to  this  for  assistance.  We  who  remain 
have  a  chance  to  improve  in  the  languages  par- 
ticularly." 

Early  in  the  following  March  he  had  returned 
to  Dartmouth,  and  he  writes  to  David,  "  Should  I 
have  my  health,  my  acquirements  ought  to  be 
great.  Whether  the  measles  are  hanging  about 
me  or  not  is  uncvirtain.  I  feel  rather  unwell,  but 
a  few  days  will  decide.  Respecting  the  affairs  of 
the  college,  everything  is  at  present  in  dread  un- 
certainty. A  storm  seems  to  be  gathering,  the 
sky  lowers,  and  ere  long  may  burst  on  the  present 
government  of  the  college.  What  the  event  may 
be  time  will  discover.  If  the  State  (and  there  is 
no  doubt  of  it)  be  Democratic,  a  revolution  will 
take  place.  Probably  President  Brown  will  be 
dismissed.  In  that  case  the  rollcii-e  will  fall. 
However,  say  nothing  —  all  may  yet  be  well,  and 


AT  DARTMOUTH. 


245 


if  not,  we  are  not  to  blame."  ..."  The  class  is 
ambitious;  and  to  bo  among  the  first,  in  one 
which  is  pronounced  the  best  in  college,  will  be 
an  arduous  undertaking.  Good  health  will  be  ab- 
solutely necessary  for  a  candidate." 

"  These  hints  about  health  may  make  you  un- 
easy, but  you  must  not  mind  it.  I  sincerely  hope 
to  be  al)le  to  study  hard,  but  shall  never  injure 
myself  in  that  way.  I  suppose  Washington*  is 
getting  through  with  the  "  Reader."  He  must 
attend  closely  to  Latin  and  Greek.  Two  years 
would  make  a  thorouorh  scholar  out  of  anything, 
and  if  this  college  should  fail,  the  more  he  must 
study  to  enter  at  Cambridge."  He  says  he  has 
paid  Mrs.  D.  for  his  board,  has  "  discharged  all 
debts  "  and  has  "  some  left ;  "  but  as  certain  nec- 
essary expenses  will  soon  absorb  what  little  money 
remains  to  him,  he  half  sportively  adds,  "  I  don't 
know  what  more  to  write,  but  suppose  in  about  a 
month  you  send  me  a  little  money."  And  again, 
"  I  will  now  close,  requesting  you  to  write  imme- 
diately and  pay  the  postage." 

On  November  3,  181G,  he  again  writes  from 
Hanover  to  David,  who  had  evidently  been  very 
sick,  "  My  dear  brother,  my  feelings,  on  receiv- 
ing another  letter  from  you,  I  shall  not  pretend  or 

1  A  younrriT  brother  who  was  born  January  17,   1803,  and  died 
during  his  sunior  year  at  college. 


in 

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MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


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attempt  to  describe.  You  can  conceive  with  what 
anxiety  I  was  waiting  news  from  home  and  the 
joy  I  must  liave  felt  in  recognizing  your  well- 
known  liiind  —  the  hand  indeed  of  one,  as  you 
observe,  '  almost  literally  raised  from  the  dead.' 
How  grateful  ought  we  both  to  feel.  And,  if  I 
know  anything  of  myself,  I  do  feel  so.  These 
gloomy  foreljodiugs  that  distracted  my  waking 
hours,  and  the  dreams  that  haunted  my  sleep 
have  now  left  me,  and  I  can  think  of  home  with- 
out its  appearing  dreary  and  melancholy  ;  but  I 
will  only  add,  my  heart's  desire  is  that  the  cure 
may  be  perfected.  Respecting  my  own  situation, 
I  would  tell  you  that  it  is  in  the  highest  degree 
pleasant.  My  room  is  good,  and  room-mate  agree- 
able, and  our  fellow  students  in  the  house,  seven 
in  number,  mostly  seniors,  friendly  and  familiar. 
Compared  with  last  term,  my  eyes  are  well, 
though  I  do  not  attempt  studying  evenings,  this 
circumstance  rendering  application  in  the  day- 
time necessary.  I  have  too  much  neglected  exer- 
cise, and  my  head  suffers  for  it.  Since  convers- 
ing, however,  with  Dr.  Mussey,  I  have  altered  my 
habits  and  regularly  exercise  once  a  day.  The 
instruction  we  enjoy  is  most  excellent.  President 
Brown  hears  us  in  Horace,  and  Professor  Shurtleff 
in  Algebra  ;  and  it  is  our  own  fault  if  we  do  not 
make  suitable  advances.     By  abridging  hours  of 


LEGISLATIVE  INTERFERENCE. 


247 


recreation,  I  have  made  myself  master  of  the 
Frencli  grammar,  and  read,  without  a  translation, 
one  or  tAvo  pages  in  the  original  of  Telemaehiis  as 
an  exercise  every  morning.  We  have  a  task  as- 
signed the  class,  of  rather  a  singular  nature,  and 
such  a  one  as  will  with  dilTiculty  be  well  per- 
formed —  it  is  the  rendering  into  English  poetry 
one  of  the  Odes  of  Horace,  and  this,  with  two  or 
three  other  exercises  which  fall  upon  us,  will  I 
fear  oblige  me  to  hurt  my  eyes  by  application  in 
the  evening.  I  forgot  to  observe,  when  speaking 
of  instruction,  that  Professor  Adams  corrects  our 
compositions." 

Yet  again,  he  writes  from  Hanover  to  David, 
under  date  of  December  16,  1810,  "  I  have  been 
unavoidably  prevented,  till  this  moment,  from 
answering  your  last,  and  expressing  my  joy  at  its 
contents.  You  will  be  sorry  to  hear  what  1  liave 
to  tell  you  respecting  affairs  of  the  college.  In- 
telligence has  just  reached  us,  that  another  act 
has  passed  both  branches  of  the  Legislature,  and 
become  a  law,  authorizing  nine  of  the  new  trus- 
tees only  to  do  business,  —  a  number  which,  it  is 
supposed,  can  very  easily  at  any  time  be  assembled. 
That  this  body  will  convene  inmiediately,  perhaps 
before  the  end  of  the  term,  and  remove  the  whole 
of  the  present  government  of  the  college,  and 
supply  their  places  with  men  of  their  own  party, 


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248 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


is  what  the  best  amongst  us  confidently  expect. 
The  situation  of  the  institution  is,  you  perceive, 
critical  in  the  extreme ;  '  Consternation  turns 
the  good  man  pale.'  You  may  judge  better  of 
the  singular  state  of  the  college,  and  of  the  con- 
fusion Avhich  prevails,  from  the  following  circum- 
stance. It  is  customary  for  the  sophomore  class 
to  take  on  itself  the  business  of  getting  the  cata- 
logue of  officers  and  students  annually  printed. 
It  was,  as  usual,  done  by  my  class  this  fall,  with 
the  introduction,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  '  Cata- 
logue of  the  Officers  and  Students  of  Dartmouth 
College.'  The  few  Democrats  and  fellows  of  '  the 
baser  sort '  amongst  us  immediately  employed  our 
Hanover  Democratic  printer  to  strike  off  an  edi- 
tion in  this  form :  '  Catalogue  of  the  Officers  and 
Students  of  Dartmouth  University,  together  with 
the  Trustees  (old  and  new)  and  Overseers  of  the 
same !  '  So  much  for  affairs  of  college.  ...  I 
have  been  exceedingly  troubled  with  headache, 
and  my  eyes  have  become  somewdiat  weak.  I, 
therefore,  look  with  impatience  for  the  close  of 
the  term.  I  would,  however,  observe  that,  if  my 
health  is  continued,  I  shall  employ  the  coming 
vacation  in  diligent  and  profitable  study ;  and, 
excepting  the  Londonderry  visit,  which  I  heartily 
dread,  I  shall  shut  myself  up.  I  have  secured 
*  Smith's    Botany '   and    a   '  Telemaque '   of    Dr. 


A    TEACHER  AT   WASHINGTON. 

Mussey,  to  which   my  attention  will   this  winter 
be  devoted." 

The  last  of  these  letters  which  I  have  in  hand 
was  written  to  Mr.  Choate's  sister  Ilannaii,  while 
he  was  studying  law  under  Mr.  Wirt  at  Washing- 
ton, and  is  dated  September  21),  1821.  It  begins 
thus:  "  We  sent  you  such  a  storm  of  letters  two 
or  three  weeks  since  that  somehow  we  hardly 
thought  to  be  turned  off  with  but  one  in  answer, 
however  full  and  excellent  it  might  be,  and  so 
have  waited  and  waited,  unreasonably,  you  will 
say,  in  daily  expectation  of  another  or  two.  But 
I  have  taken  hold  at  last,  and  a  letter  you  shall 
have,  —  with  nothing  in  it  though,  but  very  much 
love  to  you  all,  very  much  joy  at  David's  so  grati- 
fying recovery,  and  the  word  '  all 's  loelL'  "  A 
little  farther  on  he  writes,  ^'  M.  and  E.  went  to 
Mount  Vernon  yesterday,  and  have  brought  back 
leaves,  acorns,  etc.,  plucked  from  the  grave  that 
hallows  that  place  and  makes  it  a  spot  so  dear  to 
the  heart  of  every  American.  Sister  S.  and  I 
hope  to  go  down  next  Saturday."  Besides  his 
regular  study  of  the  law,  he  tells  us  that  he  is 
''  engaged  every  other  day  in  the  week,  three 
hours,  in  a  school  of  yeung  ladies,  as  ajwrtcmt, — 
all  for  cash,  of  which  the  Doctor  does  not  manage 
to  have  any  very  great  abundance,  or  for  which 
I  do  not  choose  to  ask  him."    He  continues,  "  I 


250 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


1    t 


have  some  trifling  debts  which  it  is  my  determina- 
tion you  at  home  never  shall  pay ;  and,  seriously 
as  1  regret  the  inroad  on  my  hours  of  study,  I 
cheerfully  resign  from  11  to  2.  You  can  hardly 
imagine  how  much  I  long  to  go  back  to  you,  and 
look  around  once  more  on  our  famil}'^  circle,  and 
on  the  hills,  dales,  and  waters  of  our  much-loved 
birthplace.  Sometimes  I  almost  determine  to  re- 
turn this  fall,  but  then  what  shall  I  do  for  money, 
and  how  shall  I  dispose  of  my  professional  studies  ? 
So,  on  the  whole,  I  must  stand  by,  I  think,  till 
June,  1822.  In  the  mean  time,  as  soon  at  least 
as  the  session  begins,  we  must  contrive  to  hear 
from  each  other  oftener,  and  when  D.,  who  I  hope 
is  nearly  well  enough  already,  has  so  recovered  as 
to  write,  once  a  week  must  be  the  word.  I  like 
this  city  very  little,  and  hope  and  believe  I  never 
shall  make  up  my  mind  to  stay  here  for  life.  That 
question  as  to  the  place  of  my  future  residence 
begins  at  last  to  be  a  very  serious  one,  and  I  think 
of  it  daily  and  nightly.  Still  there  are  more  than 
two  years  to  me  yet  before  I  need  decide,  and  all 
I  ought  to  wish  to  do  is  to  improve  them  to  the 
very  utmost."  Again,  as  often  in  the  course  of 
these  letters,  his  fond  affection  for  his  brother 
David  finds  its  wonted  expression.  "  You  don't 
know  how  it  delights  me  to  hear  of  D.'s  recovery, 
and  how  we  want  to  see  it  under  his  own  hand 
and  seal." 


HIS  HANDWRITING. 


251 


This  David,  who  died  about  five  years  ago,  at 
the  age  of  seventy-six,  was,  I  scarcely  need  add, 
a  man  of  much  prominence  and  great  usefuhicss. 
He  possessed,  in  no  small  degree,  many  of  the 
extraordinary  natural  gifts  that  distinguished  his 
more  celebrated  brother ;  and,  though  he  had  had 
less  favorable  opportunities  for  early  culture,  he 
nobly  justified  the  bright  hopes  that  clustered 
about  his  promising  youth  by  the  solid  and  lasting 
service  which  he  rendered,  through  all  his  man- 
hood, in  the  interests  of  education,  law,  and  re- 
ligion. 

Among  several  scraps  which  I  have  in  Mr. 
Choate's  handwriting,  is  a  letter  which  he  wrote 
from  Washington,  when  he  was  no  longer  a  law 
student  there,  but  about  twelve  years  later,  Feb- 
ruary 4,  1833,  while  he  was  a  member  of  Con- 
gress. A  short  extract  affords  us  a  glimpse  of 
what  some  of  the  national  representatives  were 
thinking  about  and  doing.  "  Things  stand  pretty 
dubiously  yet.  However,  the  Union  is  well  enough. 
The  tariff  we  mny  save  by  a  bargain."  The  last 
law  case  which  Mr.  Choate  was  ever  engaged  in 
has  been  referred  to  in  a  previous  communication. 
A  brief,  written  at  the  time  with  his  own  hand,  is 
also  in  my  possession,  and  is  a  curiosity  in  its  way. 
Its  chirography  makes  quite  credible  the  story,  — 
which,  however,  comes  to  me  from  very  good  au- 


I 


u 


I'M 

:  M  ' 


,.1.'  r 


;? ! 


t: 


252 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


M 


■I 


* 


thority,  —  that  a  now  deceased  member  of  the 
Middlesex  bar  once  received  from  him  a  letter 
respecting  a  suit  in  which  the  two  were  associated ; 
and,  being  unaljle  to  road  it,  or  to  find  any  one 
else  who  could  do  so,  he  took  it  back  to  the  writer, 
who  was  actually  unable  to  decipher  its  strange 
characters  himself.  And  were  the  latter  to  re- 
appear amongst  us,  after  this  lapse  of  years,  I 
fear  he  would  be  equally  unsuccessful  in  making 
out  the  brief  I  have  mentioned. 

I  have  often  heard  Massachusetts  lawyers  speak 
of  the  strong  prejudice  which  Mr.  Choate  soon  en- 
countered from  the  older  and  more  conspicuous 
members  of  the  profession  after  his  advent  at  the 
Boston  bar.  The  way  he  had  of  gaining  victories 
by  his  brilliant  style,  his  captivating  eloquence, 
his  wonderful  power  over  juries,  and  his  new  and 
novel  methods  of  procedure,  was  deemed  an  im- 
pertinent departure  from  the  long-established  rule 
and  routine.  Few  could  understand  his  tactics, 
and  more  than  a  few  persistently  disparaged  his 
talents  and  attainments,  ridiculed  his  ell'orts  and 
peculiarities,  and  sought  to  annoy  and  perplex 
him  in  court  by  unusual  rudeness.  On  one  occa- 
sion, when  he  had  borne  patiently  many  an  un- 
friendly interruption  and  bitter  taunt,  some  one 
who  was  near  asked  him  why  he  endured  such 
treatment,  and  why  he  did  not  retort.     "  I  shall 


AN  UNSELFISH  MISD. 


253 


retort,"  he  said,  "  by  getting  the  case."     And  he 
got  it. 

Others  fitted  for  the  task  have  already,  perhaps, 
given  us  a  satisfactory  analysis  of  Mr.  Choate's 
mind  and  character.  It  is  not  for  me  to  attempt 
it,  and  my  letter  is  even  now  too  long.  But  I 
cannot  forbear  adding  a  word  about  what  has  al- 
ways seemed  to  mo  one  of  the  very  finest  of  his 
traits.  During  my  summer  sojourn  at  IJeverly,  I 
was  a  near  neighbor  of  the  venerable  Dr.  Boyden, 
whose  testimony,  as  that  of  the  only  surviving 
college  classmate  of  the  great  lawyer,  you  gave  to 
the  public  in  connection  with  your  last  article.  In 
several  interviews  I  had  with  him,  he  dwelt  much 
upon  the  many  rare  virtues  and  excellences  of  his 
distinguished  and  life-long  friend,  and  touched 
particularly  upon  his  generous  appreciation  of 
whatever  was  good  in  others,  and  his  absolute 
freedom  from  all  Qiwy  and  jealousy.  Kufus 
Choate  always  wished  and  aimed  to  excel,  but  he 
was  glad  to  see  his  companions  and  competitors 
excel  also,  and  was  ever  ready  to  help  them  in 
their  struggles  and  toils.  He  coveted  no  preemi- 
nence that  must  be  purchased  at  the  cost  of  those 
who  were  striving  with  him  for  fame  and  glory. 
He  had  no  habit  of  disparaging  his  associates  or 
rivals  at  school,  at  the  bar,  in  legislative  hall,  or 
in  the  political  arena.     I  can  think  of  only  one  in- 


ill 


\'. 


.f' 


I 


254 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


stance  by  way  of  exception.  When  Charles  Fran- 
cis Adams,  during  the  early  years  of  the  Free  Soil 
movement,  was  pointing  the  people  to  the  one 
straight  path  of  duty  and  safety,  Mr.  Choate, 
whose  honest  views  and  sympathies  and  actions 
took  a  very  difierent  direction,  indulged  in  the 
sarcasm  of  referring  to  John  Quincy  Adams  as  the 
"  last  of  the  Adamses."  He  did  not  live  to  see,  to 
the  full  extent,  how  unfortunate  was  the  word. 
For,  when  the  awful  conflict  came  which  no  ora- 
torical gifts  or  skillful  compromises  could  avert, 
and  the  peerless  magician  of  the  courts  and  of 
popular  assemblies  had  himself  forever  quit  the 
stagi  f,  it  was  that  same  son  of  the  "  old  man  elo- 
quent "  who,  through  long  and  perilous  years, 
rendered  his  country  a  service  abroad  which  his- 
tory will  claim  as  scarcely  inferior,  in  measure 
and  value,  to  any  that  was  performed  by  the 
wisest  and  best  of  our  statesmen  at  home. 

Yours,  very  truly, 

A.  r.  rUTNAM. 


y 


LETTER  FROM  HON.  ENOCH  L.  FANCHER. 


TnE   following  was    received    from   the   Hon. 
Enoch  L.  Fancher  :  — 


MR.  CIIOATE  AND  THE  METHODIST  CHURCH  CASE. 

One  of  the  most  important  cases  of  my  early 
practice  was  the  so-called  Methodist  Church  case. 
It  was  brought  by  Henry  M.  Bascom  and  others, 
as  commissioners  and  representatives  of  tht  M.  E. 
Church  South,  against  the  commissioners  of  tlie 
M.  E.  Church  and  the  agents  of  its  Book  Concern 
in  the  city  of  New  York. 

The  suit  was  tried  at  New  York,  in  the  United 
States  Circuit  Court,  before  Judges  Nelson  and 
Betts,  in  May,  1851. 

Previous  to  the  trial,  I  ^vent  to  Boston  to  en- 
gage Mr.  Choate  as  counsel  for  the  defendants, 
and  to  acquaint  him  with  the  facts  and  questions 
involved  in  the  case.  After  a  brief  interview  at 
his  office,  an  appointment  was  made  by  Mr. 
Choate,  according  to  which  the  Rev.  Dr.  George 
Peck,  one  of  the  defendants,  and  myself  were  to 


t 


!  I 


250 


MEMORIES  OF  liUFUS   CIIOATE. 


1] 


u 


meet  him  at  his  resitlencc  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon. 

Dr.  Peck  and  myself  were  punctual  to  the  en- 
gagement, and  Mr.  Choate  received  us  in  his  li- 
brary, which  comprises  the  entire  second  story  of 
his  residence,  shelved  to  the  ceiling,  with  trans- 
verse cases,  all  filled  with  books,  through  which 
you  wound  as  in  a  lal)yrinth.  There  were  all  the 
Greek  authors,  most  of  the  Latin,  a  large  collec- 
tion of  law  books,  and  a  well-selected  collection  of 
miscellaneous  works  of  every  description. 

In  one  of  the  passages  between  the  cases  stood 
a  high  desk,  at  which  Mr.  Choate  stationed  him- 
self, drawing  his  hand  and  arm,  as  he  wrote,  as 
high  as  the  shoulder.  On  a  lounge,  near  by,  my 
companion  and  myself  were  seated,  and  from  four 
till  ten  o'clock,  deducting  an  interval  of  about 
thirty  minutes  for  tea,  we  were  plied  with  ques- 
tions from  Mr.  Choate,  while  he  scrawled  in  quaint 
hieroglyphics  what  we  supposed  he  intended  as 
answers  to  the  queries  propounded.  His  eye  di- 
lated, his  voice  grew  tremulous,  his  lips  quivered, 
and  his  great  frame  seemed  to  shake  with  the 
thoughts  whose  symbols  were  so  strang-elv  re- 
corded.  He  would  at  times  cry  out,  "  Stop  there," 
holding  up  his  left  hand  till  he  had  written  what 
he  desired ;  then,  dropping  the  hand,  would  say  in 
tones  as  musical  as  a  flute,  "  Go  right  on,  give  me 


r  -4 


THE  METHODIST  CHUnCII  CASE. 


257 


all  of  that  view."  Occasionally  pausing,  he  would 
add,  "  This  is  the  greatest  case  I  ever  studied  ;  I 
want  you  to  leave  with  me  every  scrap  of  brief 
you  have  made."  1  left  him  with  no  doubt  that 
he  fully  understood  the  whole  case,  and  had  en- 
listed in  it  strange  enthusiasm. 

Subsequently  he  visited  me  at  my  residence  in 
New  York,  when  he  reviewed,  with  masterly  abil- 
ity, the  general  features  of  the  great  controversy 
between  the  Church  South  and  tlie  M.  E.  Church ; 
and  asked  further  questions  concerning  the  case, 
which  seemed  to  arouse  his  ardent  enery;ies. 


'o 


During  the  long  trial  of  the  case  he  became 
ill ;  and  one  day  was  obliged  to  leave  the  court- 
room and  go  to  his  hotel.  He  charged  me  to 
take  down  every  word  of  Mr.  Lord's  argument, 
and  to  bring  to  him  the  notes  of  it  in  the  even- 
ing. I  found  him  in  bed  with  a  physician  present, 
who  told  him  he  should  prescribe  calomel.  "  How 
•  large  a  dose  have  you  been  accustomed  to?" 
asked  the  physician.  "  I  don't  know,"  replied 
Mr.  Choate,  "  but  give  me  the  largest  dose  you 
ever  gave  a  man  in  your  life !  " 

On  account  of  his  illness,  the  court  was  ad- 
journed from  Friday  to  Monday ;  and,  on  the 
morning  of  the  latter  day,  Mr.  Choate  came  into 
court  looking  wan  and  showing  signs  of  his  indis- 
position.    He  began  to  speak,  evidently  in  wea- 

17 


I  t 


258 


MEMORIES  OF  liUFUS  CIIOATE. 


11 


rinesa,  but  growing  stronger  as  he  continued ; 
and,  thenceforward,  all  that  day  and  for  the  most 
of  the  next  day  he  poured  forth  strains  of  elo- 
quence and  argumentative  power  that  I  have 
never  heard  rivaled.  His  brief  was  a  mass  of 
loose  letter  sheets,  on  which,  in  his  peculiar  chi- 
rography,  he  had  jotted  down  in  dashes,  tranunols, 
hooks,  quavers,  and  quail-tracks,  such  memoranda 
of  the  case  as  seemed,  from  his  argument,  to  cover 
the  whole  controversy.  The  rain  fell  from  his 
bushy  locks ;  his  voice  (I  never  heard  such  .i 
voice)  kept  tone  to  the  rhythm  of  his  eloq  .once 
and  power  of  his  argument.  No  man  living  could 
have  excelled  him  in  that  speech. 

In  his  opening  remarks,  full  of  pathos  and 
beauty,  he  deprecated  the  events  of  "  sad  and 
singular  interest "  that  had  led  to  the  dismem- 
berment of  the  great  Methodist  Church,  and  ven- 
tured the  expression  of  the  hope  that  if  the  steps 
the  plaintiff  had  taken  should  turn  out  to  be  "  un- 
profitable as  well  as  devious,"  it  would  be  easier 
to  retrace  them.  "  Many  times,"  said  he,  "  I  re- 
member the  historian  tells  us,  many  times,  the 
alienating  states  of  Greece  had  all  but  made  up 
their  minds  to  discontinue  the  common  consulta- 
tion of  the  Oracle  of  Delphi,  and  seek  for  the  will 
of  Jove  in  divers  local  temples ;  and  they  would 
have  done  so  had  not  the  impracticability  of  par- 


THE   MimiODIST  CIU'RCII   CASK. 


259 


titioning  the  tronsures  wliicli  tlio  i)ii'ty  of  mo 
many  geiu'rations  hud  gathered  on  the  ehanned, 
neutral  gi'ound  necessitated  a  salutary  delay." 

His  whole  argument  was  one  ol  triuni})hant 
vigor;  and  had  it  been  made  thirty  years  later, 
when  the  sentiments  that  ruK'd  eourts  and  judges 
on  the  Sout'"  rn  (|uestion  had  come  to  a  sounder 
basis,  it  would  have  been  successful.  No  judge, 
with  his  c^'"  on  the  prc-'denoy,  co  ild.  at  that  day, 
be  convinced  by  th;  elo(inence  ol"  a  Choatc  or  the 
logic  of  a  Plato,  if  that  conviction  resulted  in  a 
judgment  against  the  South.  The  great  North 
was,  however,  right  that  day,  though  the  Court 
gave  the  palm  of  victory  to  the  South. 

After  the  stenographer  had  written  out  the 
speech  of  Mr.  Choate.  I  mailed  it,  directed  to  him 
at  Boston,  with  the  retjuest  that  he  would  correct 
and  return  it,  as  it  was  intended  to  preserve  a  full 
history  of  the  case  and  of  the  arguments  as  well. 
He  returned  it  without  the  correction  of  a  word, 
writing  me  a  humorous  and  interesting  letter.  A 
filibuster,  named  Lopez,  had,  just  befoie,  set  sail 
with  an  expedition  against  Cuba.  Mr.  Choate 
wrote  that  he  had  not  found  time  to  correct  the 
speech,  and  probably  would  not  lind  time  to  do 
so,  ''  until  Lopez  hoisted  his  piratical  Hag  over 
Havana!  " 

When  the  question  of  what  should  be  the  char- 


i, 


!* ; 


3f 


II 


I  >■'. ' 


I  ' 


1-' 


260 


MEMORIES   OF  HUE  US   C  HO  ATE. 


acter  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution  was  under 
discussion  in  tlie  Semite  of  the  United  States,  Mr. 
Choate,  who  had  been  hitely  made  a  seuiitor  for 
Massachusetts  in  place  of  Mr.  Webster,  promoted 
to  the  cabinet,  took  part  in  the  debate.  He 
made,  as  I  was  tokl  by  the  late  Dr.  Bishop,  who 
was  present,  the  great  speech  of  the  occasion. 
He  ranged  over  the  field  of  literature,  and  por- 
trayed the  beneficent  influence  of  literary  institu- 
tions, and  claimed  for  the  Smithsonian  a  founda- 
tion of  broad  character.  Senators  crowded  around 
him  to  listen  to  the  new  wonder ;  and,  as  he  re- 
sumed his  seat,  Calhoun,  who  stood  near,  leaning 
on  the  back  of  a  chair,  exclaimed  to  some  sena- 
tors, '•  Massachusetts  sent  us  a  We])ster.  but,  in 
the  name  of  heaven,  whom  have  they  sent  us 
now  : 

I  do  not  shrink  from  recording  my  deliberate 
opinion  that  Rufus  Choate  was  the  greatest  law- 
yer and  the  most  eloquent  orator  of  his  time. 
Probably,  as  a  belles  letires  scholar  he  had  no 
superior  ;  while  the  vast  range  of  his  rich  and 
copious  vocabulary  was  equaled  only  by  the  vocal 
music  that  charmed  it,  and  that  wonderful  play 
of  thought  that  set  both  in  motion.  Under  his 
magic  wand, 

*'  A  l)ri;;litt'r  (•(lUTald  twinkleil  in  the  ^rass, 
A  (h'ej)er  sajjfihire  melted  in  the  sea." 


IM 


LETTER  FROM  HON.  GEORGE  W.  NESMITH. 


The  Honorable  George  W.  Nesmitli,  late  one  of 
the  justices  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, who  was  in  college  with  Mr.  Choate  and 
was  his  confidential  friend  afterwards,  has  had  the 
kindness  to  send  me  this  paper  :  — 

My  dear  Sir,  —  I  confess  it  would  be  a  hope- 
less task  for  me  to  delineate  the  character  of  Ru- 
fus  Choate.  You  have  given,  in  your  own  fin- 
ished style,  a  concise,  yet  comprehensive,  view  of 
what  he  was  and  did,  and  you  have  been  aided  by 
those  who  saw  and  heard  him  UiOre  frequently 
than  myself.  Yet  I  will  place  my  memory  at 
your  service. 

I  knew  him  well  .while  at  college.  Our  ac- 
quaintance commenced  in  1816.  He  was  one 
year  in  advance  of  me  in  collegiate  standing  and 
in  age.  I  belonged  to  the  same  literary  society 
with  him  for  three  years,  and  remember  with 
pleasure  his  leadership  there.  During  my  last 
year  rft  college  he  was  a  tutor. 


I 


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1 1 


2G2 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


W^ 


After  graduation  we  lived  a  hundred  miles 
apart.  I  frequently  saw  him  when  I  visited  Bos- 
ton, had  interviews  with  him,  and  occasionally 
heard  him  in  courts  of  justice.  I  was  with  him 
in  the  Whig  presidential  conventions  at  the  nomi- 
nations of  General  Taylor,  at  Philadelphia,  and  of 
General  Scott,  at  Baltimore.  At  both  conven- 
tions we  supported  Mr.  Webster  as  a  candidate. 
I  afterwards  heard  his  famous  eulogy  upon  Mr. 
Webster.  A  short  time  before  his  death,  I  had 
an  interesting  conversation  with  him,  in  which  he 
announced  the  unwelcome  intelHgence  that  his 
physicians  had  notified  him  to  quit  all  labor  and 
to  take  a  sea  voyage,  as  this  offered  the  only 
hope  of  recruiting  his  feeble  bodily  frame. 

The  only  reminiscence  of  his  college  life  which 
occurs  to  me  as  not  already  narrated  by  your  cor- 
respondents was  an  amusing  practical  joke  perpe- 
trated by  him  and  some  other  students.  They 
exchanged  potatoes  for  ajoples  in  the  sole  remain- 
ing sack  of  a  farmer  of  the  name  of  Johnson, 
from  Norwich,  and  then  induced  Johnson  to  offer 
the  contents  of  the  sack  for  sale  at  the  college. 
A  purchase  was  made  by  the  students  who  had 
been  notified  of  his  approach,  and  then,  upon 
opening  the  sack,  an  outcry  was  raised  against 
Johnson  for  attempted  imposition.  Protestations 
of   innocence  were  met  with  ridicule,  and   sug- 


I  ■ii  1 


EARLY  EXHORTATION. 


263 


gestions  of  the  interference  of  the  Evil  One. 
Choate,  standing  in  front  of  Johnson,  amused  at 
the  perplexity  depicted  upon  his  countenance, 
exclaimed,  "  Would  that  Hogarth  were  here ! " 
Johnson  caught  at  the  name  with  suspicion,  and 
afterward  ol'fered  to  rj ward  us  if  we  would  tell 
where  Hoicarth  was  to  be  found. 

One  of  Choate's  most  eloquent  and  effective 
speeches  was  delivered  in  his  senior  year  at  col- 
lege, in  the  autumn  of  1818,  while  acting  as  presi- 
dent of  our  literary  society.  It  was  upon  the 
occasion  of  the  introduction  of  many  members 
from  the  Freshman  class.  The  custom  of  presi- 
dents of  the  association  had  been  to  make  a  brief 
formal  speech',  setting  forth  the  objects  of  the  so- 
ciety and  the  duties  of  its  members,  and  that  was 
all  we  expected.  We  were  surprised  by  a  well 
prepared  and  eloquent  address  of  considerable 
length.  At  that  time  he  was  in  vigorous  health 
and  full  of  energy.  The  silvery  tones  of  his  voice, 
resounding  through  our  little  hall,  kept  the  as- 
sembly spell-bound  while  he  discoursed  upon  those 
elements  of  character  essential  to  the  formation  of 
the  ripe  scholar  and  the  useful  citizen.  The  late 
Chief  Justice  Perley  was  one  of  the  young  men 
then  made  members  of  the  society  of  "  Social 
Friends."  In  after-life  I  often  heard  him  allude, 
in  terms  of  high  commendation,  to  that  perform- 


i  I 


264 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


ance.  On  the  following  day  I  undertook  to  note 
down  in  a  little  scrap-book  some  of  the  thoughts 
to  which  Choate  had  given  utterance,  although 
I  could  not  reproduce  the  brilliant  language  in 
which  they  were  expressed.  I  give  some  of  those 
memoranda  :  — 

"  To  make  the  successful  scholar,  patient,  con- 
stant, well-directed  labor  is  an  absolute  requisite." 
"  He  must  aim  at  reaching  the  highest  standard 
of  excellence  of  character.  Good  mental  endow- 
ments must  be  allied  to  conscience,  truthfulness, 
manliness.  In  the  affairs  of  life,  brains  are  essen- 
tial, but  truth,  or  heart,  more  so."  "  Not  genius 
so  much  as  sound  principles,  regulated  by  good 
discretion,  commands  success.  We  often  see  men 
exercise  an  amount  of  influence  out  of  all  pro- 
portion to  their  intellectual  capacities,  because, 
by  their  steadfast  honesty  and  probity,  they 
command  the  respect  of  those  who  know  them. 
George  Herbert  says,  *  A  handful  of  good  life  is 
worth  a  bushel  of  learning.'  Burns'  father's  ad- 
vice to  his  son  was  good,  — 

'  He  bade  me  act  the  manly  part, 
Though  I  had  ne'er  a  farthing, 
For,  without  an  honest,  manly  heart, 
No  man  was  worth  regarding.' 

"A  critic  said  of  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan, 
that,  if  he  had  possessed  reliableness  of  character, 


MORAL  FIRMNESS. 


265 


he  might  have  ruled  the  world ;  but,  for  want  of 
it,  his  splendid  gifts  were  comparatively  useless. 
Burke  was  a  man  of  transcendent  gifts,  but  the 
defect  in  his  character  was  want  of  moral  firnmess 
and  good  temper.  To  succeed  in  life  we  must  not 
only  be  conscientious,  we  must  have  also  energy 
of  will,  —  a  strong  determination  to  do  manly 
work  for  ourselves  and  others.  The  strong  man 
channels  his  own  path,  and  easily  persuades  others 
to  walk  in  it."  "  When  Washington  took  com- 
mand of  the  American  army,  the  country  felt  as 
if  its  forces  had  been  doubled.  So,  when  Chat- 
ham was  appointed  Prime  Minister  in  England, 
great  confulence  was  created  in  the  government." 
"After  General  Greene  had  been  driven  out  of 
South  Carolina  by  Cornwallis,  having  fought  the 
battle  of  Guilford  Court  House,  he  exclaimed,  '  I 
will  now  recover  South  Carolina,  or  die  in  the  at- 
tempt.' It  was  this  stern  mental  resolve  that  en- 
abled him  to  succeed."  "  Every  student  should 
improve  his  opportunities  to  cultivate  his  powers. 
He  owes  this  duty  to  his  friends,  his  instructors, 
and  his  country.  Our  learned  men  are  the  hope 
and  strength  of  the  nation.  '  They  stamp  the 
epochs  of  national  life  with  their  own  greatness.' 
They  give  character  to  our  laws  and  shape  our  in- 
stitutions, found  new  industries,  carve  out  new 
careers  for  the  commerce  and  labor  of  society ; 


" 


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266 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


they  are,  in  fact,  the  salt  of  the  earth,  in  hfe  as 
well  as  in  death.  Constituting,  as  they  do,  the 
vital  force  of  a  nation  and  its  very  life-blood, 
their  example  becomes  a  continual  stimulant  and 
encouragement  to  every  young  man  who  has  aspi- 
rations for  a  higher  station  or  the  higher  honors 
of  society.  Now,  my  brethren  and  young  friends, 
we  beseech  you  to  strive  earnestly  to  excel  in  this 
honorable  race  for  just  fame  and  true  glory,  and 
in  your  efforts  to  mount  up  upon  the  fabled  lad- 
der do  not  be  found,  in  he  spirit  of  envy,  pulling 
any  above  you  down,  but  rather,  in  the  exercise 
of  a  more  liberal  spirit,  holding  out  a  helping  hand 
to  a  worthy  brother  who  may  be  struggling  below 
you.  Be  assured  you  exalt  yourselves  in  propor- 
tion as  you  raise  up  the  humbler  ones." 

The  second  part  of  his  discourse  was  specially 
devoted  to  the  pleasure  and  rewards  derived  from 
an  intimate  acquaintance  with  classical  learning. 
His  suggestions  were  valuable  and  impressive,  and 
urged  home  upon  our  attention  with  great  rhe- 
torical force.  If  this  speech  had  been  published, 
it  would  have  furnished  the  young  student  with  a 
profitable  guide  in  his  pursuit  of  knowledge. 

Mr.  Choate  has  been  rightly  described  to  you 
as  an  original  nondescript.  He  was  like  no  other 
person  in  his  style  of  writing,  or  in  his  oratory. 
He  perceived  quickly  and  acquired  rapidly.     He 


,.i.i( 


FASHIONED  FOR  A   POET. 

possessed  a  retentive  memory,  appropriating  to 
himself  readily  the  thoughts  of  others.  To  his 
able  reasoning  powers  he  united  an  imagina- 
tion "  richly  perfumed  from  Carmel's  llowcry  top," 
powerful,  soaring,  unbounded.  lie  seemed  to 
have  been  fashioned  for  a  poet.  lie  remarked  to 
me  one  day  that  he  loved  jooetry,  but  poetry  did 
not  love  him. 

As  to  teuiper,  he  was  always  indulgent  and 
kind,  speaking  evil  of  none.  In  his  daily  inter- 
course with  others,  he  was  courteous  and  liberal 
to  a  fault.  He  was  naturally  gentle  ;  but,  when 
pressed  hard,  was  capable  of  intlicting  blows  that 
left  an  impression.  I  once  heard  him  deal  with  a 
bad  witness  in  court.  He  did  not  call  him  hard 
names,  but  covered  him  over  with  an  oily  sar- 
casm so  deep  that  the  jury  did  not  care  to  look 
after  him.  In  other  words,  the  witness  was  slain 
politely,  and  laid  out  to  dry. 

Not  far  from  the  year  1845,  the  Hon.  Levi 
"Woodbury  was  invited  by  the  literary  societies  of 
Dartmouth  College  to  deliver  an  oration  at  the  an- 
nual Commencement  in  July.  Going  thither,  I 
had  a  seat  in  the  stage  coach  with  Mr.  Webster, 
Mr.  Woodbury,  and  Mr.  Choate.  A  good  oppor- 
tunity was  presented  of  witnessing  their  conversa- 
tional powers.  Mr.  Webster  and  Judge  Woodbury 
had  for  many  years  resided  in  Portsmouth,  N.  H., 


268 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE. 


and  topics  relative  to  men  and  scenes  there  were 
much  discussed  by  them.  Of  course  I  could  not 
but  be  an  interested  listener.  The  early  history 
of  our  State,  the  character  of  the  settlers,  their 
leaders,  their  privations  and  sufferings  by  reason 
of  Indian  warfare,  the  character  of  our  early  gov- 
ernors, and  the  growth  of  the  State,  with  historical 
reminiscences  and  anecdotes,  were  introduced.  I 
was  surprised  to  find  that  Mr.  Clioate  was  so  fa- 
miliar with  our  early  history  as  to  give  dates  and 
evcntg  with  accuracy.  By  easy  transitions  they 
passed  to  the  judiciary  of  the  State  and  the  mem- 
bers of  the  bar,  discussing  their  respective  merits. 
On  these  local  subjects  the  New  Hampshire  men, 
of  course,  had  the  vantage  ground.  Wishing  to 
give  new  direction,  therefore,  to  the  conversation, 
I  asked  Mr.  Choate  as  to  his  later  reading.  He 
answered  that  he  had  recently  been  occupied  in 
the  perusal  of  Milton's  prose  and  poetry.  Mr. 
Webster  said  to  him,  "  As  you  are  so  recently  out 
of  Paradise,  will  you  tell  me  something  about  the 
talk  that  Adam  and  Eve  had  before  and  after  the 
fall  ?"  Mr.  Choate  asked,  "  Do  you  intend  that  as 
a  challenge  to  me  ?  "  Webster  answered,  "  Yes,  I 
do."  Choate  hereupon  recited  promptly  portions 
of  the  addresses  of  Adam  to  Eve,  and  Eve  to 
Adam,  much  to  the  edification  of  his  audience. 
Webster  rejoined  with  the  description  of  the  con- 


ESTIMATE   OF  III' MAN  GLORY. 


2G9 


flict  between  Gabriel  aiid  S;it;in,  from  the  sixth 
book  of  ''  Paradise  Lost."  Tlis  recitation  was  re- 
ceived with  applause.  John  Milton  himself,  had 
he  been  present,  would  have  been  .satisfied  witii 
the  performers  on  that  occasion.  We  had  seen 
celebrated  actors  on  the  sta<'e,  but  none  before 
like  those  in  the  statjro. 

At  my  last  interview  with  !Mr.  Choate  in  Boston, 
after  alluding  to  his  incessant  and  severe  labor  at 
the  bar  for  man}^  years,  he  said  he  was  literally 
worn  out,  and  added,  in  a  melancholy  way,  *•  I 
have  cared  much  more  for  others  than  for  my- 
self ;  I  have  spent  my  strength  for  naught."  I  re- 
minded him  that  he  had  gained  high  reputation 
in  his  profession,  and  also  as  a  scholar,  and  that 
this  was  his  reward.  He  said,  '•  We  used  to  read 
that  this  kind  of  fame  was  but  an  empty  bubble  ; 
now  I  know  it  is  nothing  else."  Such  was  Mr. 
Choate's  estimate  of  human  glory  when  con- 
sciously near  the  termination  of  his  eventful  and 
honored  life.  He  added,  '"My  light  here  is  soon 
to  be  extinguished.  I  tliink  often  of  the  grave. 
I  am  animated  by  the  hope  of  that  glorious  im- 
mortality to  be  enjoyed  in  a  kingdom  where  sin 
and  sorrow  cannot  oouie." 

I  remain,  very  respectfully,  etc., 

GEO.  W.  XESMITH. 
To  Hon.  Jos.  Nkilson. 


t-  ? 


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I  I 


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■'I '  ■ 

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'  IJ'l 


LETTERS  FROM  HON.  WILLIAM  STRONG. 


Although  not  written  for  publication,  I  am  per- 
mitted, upon  my  special  request,  to  give  the  fol- 
lowing portions  of  letters  received  from  the  Hon. 
William  Strong,  Associate  Justice  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  United  States. 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTER  OF  JANUARY  30,  1877. 

''  I  read  twice,  carefully,  Trevelyan's  '  Life  of 
Macaulay '  immediately  after  its  publication  in 
this  country.  I  had  previously  read  Mr.  Brown's 
charming  biography  of  Mr.  Choate,  and  read  it,  I 
believe,  more  than  once.  Until  your  article  in  the 
'  Albany  Law  Journal '  appeared,  it  had  not  oc- 
curred to  me  to  compare  the  two  men,  and  even 
now  I  find  it  difficult  to  compare  them.  In  my 
judgment,  they  were  very  unlike.  Undoubtedly 
there  were  some  particulars  in  which  they  resem- 
bled each  other.  Both  had  remarkable  powers 
of  memory,  but  Macaulay's  was  rather  the  mem- 
ory of  words,  while  Choate's  was  that  of  ideas 
as  well  as  of  words.     Each  of  them  had  a  large 


A   SPATdNG  GIVER. 


271 


element  of  the  dramatic.  Each  was  a  natural 
poet.  Each  was  a  man  of  great  industry  and  of 
brilliant  accomplishments.  But  here  the  resem- 
blance seems  to  me  to  cease.  Considering  that 
Macaulay  was  free  from  the  cares  and  pressures  of 
a  profession,  and,  indeed,  from  any  demands  that 
interfered  with  his  entire  devotion  to  any  subject 
that  interested  him,  he  gave  comparatively  little 
to  society  and  to  the  world.  He  made  a  few 
speeches  (not  many)  in  the  House  of  Commons. 
He  wrote  a  few  reviews  and  essays.  He  wrote 
some  pretty  poetry,  and  he  wrote  his  '  History  of 
England.'  He  prepared  also  (with  much  help)  his 
Indian  Code.  All  these  things  were  well  done  ; 
most  of  them  were  brilliant.  They  were,  and  they 
will  long  continue  to  be,  very  readable.  But 
every  one  of  them  was  the  product  of  long  and 
uninterrupted  labor  ;  written  and  re-written  again 
and  again,  and  never  permitted  to  go  from  him 
until  he  had  expended  upon  it  his  best  culture  and 
his  highest  power.  We  see,  therefore,  in  Trevol- 
yan's  Life,  Macaulay  at  his  best,  and  only  on  the 
very  apices  of  his  powers.  Choate  never  had  time 
for  such  expenditure  of  labor,  and  he  was  less 
careful  of  his  posthumous  reputation.  Yet  he  was 
at  least  equally  brilliant,  more  versatile,  and  far 
more  logical.  His  style,  undressed,  is  as  beautiful 
as  that  of  Macaulay  arrayed  in  its  best  costume, 


t  n 


( 


'  -i 


I 


272 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE, 


and  his  oratorical  powers  seem  to  mo  to  have  been 
much  higher.  Ills  abihty  to  influence  and  .sway 
other  minds  has  never  been  surpassed.  But  I 
have  no  time  to  go  into  an  analysis  of  Macaulay's 
and  Choate's  mental  powers,  acquisitions,  and  cul- 
ture." 

"  In  moral  traits  the  two  men  are  not  to  be 
compared.  Though  Macaulay  was  tender  and  lov- 
ing to  his  mother  and  sisters,  perhaps  also  to  Ellis, 
he  loved  himself  supremely.  Beyopd  this  narrow 
circle  there  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  been  any 
who  had  a  place  in  his  heart.  He  was  conspicu- 
ously vain,  envious,  jealous,  and  lastingly  malig- 
nant. Yet  he  was  a  great  and  brilliant  man.  But 
how  imlike  the  great  and  brilliant  American !  " 

"  I  shall  wait  for  the  completion  of  your  articles 
with  much  interest,  and  perhaps  I  should  not  have 
thrown  out  the  crude  observations  I  have  made. 
Yet  I  will  add  one  remark.  Perhaps  the  mellow- 
ing influence  of  a  cordial  acceptance  of  Christian- 
ity will  account  for  the  superior  loveliness  of  Mr. 
Choate's  character  over  that  of  Macaulay.  Can 
there  be  anything  more  touching  than  the  former's 
conduct  at  the  baptism  of  his  dying  daughter  ?  " 

EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTER  OF  JUNE  16,  1877. 

"  I  have  read  with  great  interest  all  you  have 
said  of  Mr.  Choate  in  the  *  Albany  Law  Journal.* 


MUCH  TO  ADMIRE. 


273 


You  certainly  have  no  reason  to  regret  the  work 
you  have  done  in  bringing  before  the  thought  of 
the  country  tlie  most  remarkable  man  (in  some 
particulars)  who  in  modern  times  has  appeared  in 
the  legal  profession.  I  have  admired  your  analy- 
sis of  his  character  and  endowments.  You  have 
done  a  work  I  should  have  feared  to  attempt. 
There  was  so  much  to  admire  in  Mr.  Choate,  from 
whatever  stand-point  one  looked  at  him,  that  it  is 
difficult  to  speak  the  truth  of  him  without  expoi- 
ure  to  the  charge  of  exaggeration.  His  aflection 
and  his  domestic  life  how  charming !  His  sense 
of  honor  how  keen !  His  subjection  to  the  control 
of  high  moral  principles  how  complete  and  con- 
stant !  His  imagination  how  brilliant  and  chaste  ! 
His  logical  power  how  masterly  !  His  memory 
how  tenacious,  and  his  industry  how  untiring ! 
He  seems  to  have  united  in  himself  the  highest 
excellences  that  are  generally  considered  inconsist- 
ent with  each  other  ;  for  illustration,  the  power  of 
exact  reasoning  and  of  sharp  discrimination,  with 
the  most  playful  fancy  ;  and  a  devotion  to  his 
professional  engagements,  apparently  disdainful  of 
rest,  with  a  ceaseless  and  demonstrative  outflow 
of  the  best  affections  of  the  heart.  He  proved 
that  these  virtues  are  not  necessarily  incongruous. 
And  then  where  could  he  have  found  time  for  so 
much  classical  reading  ?     Macaulay  had  no  profes- 

18 


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274  MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 

sion  to  which  he  was  tied.  His  business  was  to  be 
a  reader  and  a  general  student.  Mr.  Choate  had 
enough  for  a  Hfe's  work  which  demanded  his  first 
attention,  and  that  work  was  always  done." 


>  I 


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iii 


LETTER  FROIM  REV.  R.  S.   STORRS,  D.  D. 


In  this  paper  the  Rev.  Richard  S.  Storrs,  D.  D., 
LL.  D.,  pays  a  becoming  tribute  to  the  genius 
and  personahty  of  Mr.  Choate.  With  a  profound 
sense  of  the  harmony  that  exists  between  the 
written  and  the  suggested  eulogy,  I  may  be  al- 
lowed to  say  that,  while  I  have  often  heard  old 
friends  of  Mr.  Choate  speak  of  the  magnetic  at- 
traction of  his  voice  and  manner,  of  the  fascina- 
tion with  which  others  were  drawn  to  him  as  by 
some  spell  not  to  resisted  or  forgotten,  I  never 
before  had  so  clear  a  conception  of  the  power  of 
such  sovereign  qualities.  By  this  paper  we  are 
led  to  think  of  Mr.  Choate  as  in  his  old  manner ; 
and,  through  the  mazes  of  life,  study,  and  service, 
catch  glimpses  of  him  everywhere.  We  are  also 
reminded  that,  beyond  the  skill  which  may  be 
taught  and  learned,  more  natural,  vivid,  subtile, 
and  enduring ;  richer,  higher,  and  holier  far  than 
mere  outward  manifestation,  was  the  influence 
which  Mr.  Choate  exerted  in  forming  the  taste 
and  style,  strengthening  the  loyalty,  faith,  devo- 


M 

i 


>i 


H 


S 


njjui 


iii' 


276 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


tion,  and  judgment  of  those  who  were  broiiglit 
into  communion  witli  him.  It  may  also  be  under- 
stood how  one  thus  favored  and  impressed  can 
write  as  if  the  voice  of  his  long-lost  friend  could 
still  be  heard,  as  if  the  clouds  and  shadows  of  the 
intervening  time  were  swept  aside,  and  what  is 
told  had  occurred  but  yesterday. 

My  dear  Judge  Neilson,  —  I  wish  that  it  were 
in  my  power  to  send  you  si  reminiscences  of 
Mr.  Choate  as  would  be  worthy  to  be  associated 
with  your  excellent  articles,  and  with  the  interest- 
ing and  valuable  letters  which  you  are  gathering 
from  others.  But  so  many  years  have  passed 
since  I  had  frequent  occasion  to  meet  him,  and  my 
thoughts  in  the  long  interval  have  been  so  closely 
occupied  with  the  incessant  duties  of  a  different 
profession,  that  I  could  hardly  hope  to  furnish 
anything  of  incident  which  other  pens  have  not 
anticipated,  or  to  add  a  needed  line  or  tint  to  your 
careful  picture.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  me,  however, 
and  the  impulse  of  a  sincere  gratitude  to  one  who 
was  kind  to  me  in  my  youth,  and  whose  genius 
and  spirit  were  full  to  me  then  of  a  fine  inspira- 
tion, to  record  my  sense  of  the  extraordinary  gifts 
of  the  man,  and  of  his  beautiful  and  unselfish  tem- 
per. It  will  hardly  be  worth  while  to  print  Avhat 
I  write.     If  it  shall  give  you  any  suggestion  as  to 


AN  IMPRESSION. 


277 


how  he  appeared  from  my  point  of  view,  it  will 
have  fully  served  its  purpose. 

I  saw  Mr.  Clioate  for  the  first  time  at  Amherst, 
nearly  forty  years  ago,^  —  I  think  in  1838, — 
when  he  tried  a  case  there  before  referees,  his 
opponent  being  Hon.  Isaac  C.  Bates,  then  of 
Northampton.  Mr.  Bates  was  a  man  of  great 
personal  dignity  and  grace,  as  wxll  as  of  com- 
manding ability,  whom  it  was  always  delightful 
to  see  and  to  hear ;  but  one  of  the  faculty  of  the 
college  had  incidentally  said  to  me  that  this  Mr. 
Choate  was  a  man  who  should  have  been  a  Greek 
professor,  but  who  somehow  had  wandered  into 
the  law,  and  my  curiosity  was  keenly  excited  to 
see  one  who  read  Plato  or  Demosthenes  "  with 
his  feet  on  the  fender,"  and  who  still  conde- 
scended to  argue  questions  of  contracts,  usury, 
and  the  title  to  lands.  The  details  of  his  argu- 
ment have  long  since  passed  from  my  recollection  ; 
but  I  remember,  as  if  it  had  been  yesterday,  the 
power  which  he  showed  in  the  cross-examination 
of  some  specially  shrewd  and  stubborn  witnesses, 
the  vigor  and  rapidity  of  his  argumentation,  the 
force  of  his  invective,  and  the  exceeding  beauty 
of  two  or  three  swift  touches  of  description  with 
which  he  fairly  illuminated  the  landscape,  with 
some  of  whose  crooked  boundary-lines  his  argu- 

1  Written  in  1877. 


; 
't 


'  1 1 


i 
1 

i 

m 


!,!    if. 


I  •,  i 


I  Ml 


1i! 


'ini 


S  li 


»m 


i.i 


I    ! 


278 


MEMOniES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


raeiit  was  concernetl.  Tones  of  his  voice  which  I 
then  heard  are  still  in  my  ear;  and  the  unique 
and  mysterious  enchantment  of  his  presence  —  his 
curling  locks,  dark  as  the  raven's  wiuf*- ;  his  weird, 
sad,  unworldly  eyes;  a  certain  remote  and  solitary 
air  which  seemed  to  invest  him  —  stirred  my  im- 
agination, fastened  to  him  my  wondering  thought. 
I  was  reminded  of  the  personal  effect  then  pro- 
duced on  me,  when  standing,  many  years  after,  in 
the  Florentine  chapel,  before  the  darkening  mar- 
ble of  the  famous  statue  of  Duke  Lorenzo,  whose 
face 

•'  Is  lost  in  shade;  yet,  like  the  basilisk, 
It  fascinates,  and  is  intolerable." 

Mr.  Choate's  appearance,  at  that  time  in  his 
life,  was  potent  as  a  spell  over  young  imagina- 
tions. It  chained  the  eye,  and  haunted  the  mem- 
ory„  Oue  longed,  yet  almost  feared,  to  know  him. 
He  appeared  to  my  fancy  a  sort  of  Oriental  emir, 
hardly  at  home  in  our  strange  land,  who  would 
have  spoken  with  more  abundant  natural  freedom 
in  one  of  the  great  Semitic  dialects,  and  among 
whose  treasures  there  must  be  no  end  of  jewels, 
spiceries,  and  inestimable  mails. 

I  afterwards  heard  him  many  times :  in  his 
eulogy  on  President  Harrison,  for  example,  in 
Faneuil  Hall,  in  1841 ;  in  several  of  his  political 
speeches,  at  one  of  which,  in  Boston,  I  remem- 


I- 


A   STUDENT  AT  LAW. 


279 


ber  still  his  glancing  description  of  the  recent 
nomination  of  Briggs  and  Reed  for  governor  and 
lieutenant-governor  of  Massachusetts,  as  fitly  rep- 
resenting the  State  in  its  completeness,  —  "  Berk- 
shire and  Cape  Cod,  the  mighty  backbone  and  the 
stronii:  rii^ht-arm  of  the  old  Commonwealth."  I 
heard  him  on  one  Fourth  of  July  at  Concord, 
when  he  followed  Webster,  Berrien,  and  others, 
in  an  address  of  extraordinary  force  and  splendor, 
which  fairly  whirled  upon  its  feet  one  of  the  most 
exacting  assemblies  that  I  remember  to  have  seen. 
I  not  infrequently  heard  him  in  court,  though  not, 
as  it  happened,  in  any  one  of  the  causes  cclebres 
with  which  his  public  fame  is  conspicuously  con- 
nected. I  heard  his  magnificent  eulogy  on  Web- 
ster, at  Hanover,  in  1853 ;  and  I  met  him  for  the 
last  time,  I  think,  at  Salem,  in  1856,  when  his 
genius,  wit,  and  kindly  courtesy  were  as  abound- 
ing and  delightful  as  ever,  though  the  shadows  on 
his  face  and  the  unfathomed  pathos  of  his  eye 
were  as  impressive  as  anything  ever  seen  on  coun- 
tenance or  canvas. 

In  the  autumn  of  1840,  I  was  received  by  Mr. 
Choate  as  a  student  in  his  office,  though  circum- 
stances forbade,  at  the  time,  my  residence  in  Bos- 
ton. Early  in  1841,  he  was  elected  to  the  na- 
tional Senate,  as  the  successor  of  Mr.  Webster; 
and    I    thenceforth   saw  him  only   occasionally, 


m 


ti'  i 


I 
I 


U 


I  I 


I  i> 


MM- 

.mm 

■0  jf_^r    .^ 


',m 


\  ( 


•\       'i 


280 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


though  for  the  following  year  and  a  half  I  was  all 
the  time  pursuing  my  studies  under  his  direction, 
and  at  intervals  reporting  my  progress  to  him.  I 
really  knew  him  better,  I  think,  after  this  tran- 
sient connection  with  his  office  had  ceased  than 
while  it  continued ;  and  the  thought  has  been  a 
pleasant  one  to  me  that  the  church  of  which  I 
have  long  been  the  pastor  took  an  impulse  to  its 
formation  from  that  transcendent  address  of  his 
in  New  York,  in  1843,  of  which  Mr.  Van  Cott  has 
eloquently  written. 

The  instant  and  eager  boyish  admiration  with 
which  I  at  first  regarded  Mr.  Choate  gave  place, 
as  I  knew  him,  and  as  my  own  mind  advanced  to- 
ward maturity,  to  a  more  discriminating  yet  more 
profound  sense  of  his  varied  and  prodigal  intel- 
lectual gifts.  I  can  but  repeat  what  others  have 
said.  My  only  excuse  for  repeating  it  at  all  is 
that  you  have  asked  me,  and  that  my  impression 
is  not  copied  from  others,  but  was  individual  and 
received  at  first-hand. 

He  was  a  scholar  by  instinct  and  by  the  d.  h'- 
mining  force  of  his  nature.  All  forms  of  high 
intellectual  activity  had  charm  and  reward  for  his 
sympathetic  and  splendid  intelligence.  He  espe- 
cially delighted,  however,  in  history,  philosophy, 
eloquence,  and  the  immense  riches  of  the  ancient 
literature.     His  library  was  peopled  to  him  with 


ins  RELISH  FOR  STUDY. 


281 


living  minds.  The  critical  and  august  procedures 
in  history  were  as  evident  to  him  as  processions  in 
the  streets.  No  inspiring  and  majestic  voice  had 
spoken  from  Athenian  htma,  in  Roman  forum,  in 
English  Parliament  whose  vital  words,  even  whose 
tones,  did  not  still  echo  in  his  ear.  He  would 
have  made  a  Greek  professor,  elegant  in  scholar- 
ship, rich  in  acquisition,  energetic  and  liberal  in 
instruction.  I  am  not  aware  that  he  ever  made 
special  study  of  theology.  He  simply  took  it  up, 
I  think,  with  a  literary  interest,  when  its  great 
discussions  came  in  his  way ;  yet  Professor  Park 
once  said  of  him,  after  a  half  day's  conversation, 
that  "  If  he  had  not  been  the  first  lawyer  of  his 
time,  he  might  have  been  its  most  eminent  theo- 
logian." (It  is  only  fair  to  add  that  Mr.  Choate, 
knowino;  notliiuL''  of  this  remark,  said  to  the  same 
gentleman — Mr.  Lawrence,  tl^en  of  Andover, — 
that  "  If  Professor  Park  had  not  been  the  great 
theologian  that  he  was,  he  would  have  surpassed 
any  man  whom  he  knew  at  the  American  bar.") 

His  relish  for  thought,  and  for  the  powerful  ex- 
pression of  thought  in  the  most  fit  and  admirable 
words  was  only  matured  by  his  life-long  habit. 
From  the  crowd  in  the  court-room,  the  pressure 
of  cases,  the  pursuit  of  clients,  and  all  the  ele- 
ments and  the  incidents  of  suits,  still  quivering 
with   the  excitement  which  had   searched  every 


!  j  j|l 


'■'' 


Hi 


\\ 


M 


■>.i 


{ 


>.M||lil 


1 


t,;j 


:i,L:J 


h 
if 


Vl 


'  I 


282 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


nerve  in  his  throbbing  frame,  he  retreated  to  the 
authors,  ancient  and  modern,  in  whom  he  de- 
lighted ;  and  it  was  as  if  he  had  changed  the 
noisy  world  for  another,  more  serene  and  exalt- 
ing. There  were  the  bloom  and  the  music  that 
he  loved,  the  clearer  lights  on  statelier  shores,  the 
spirits  that  touched  his  to  expand  and  renew  it. 
He  could  not  go  to  the  "White  Mountains,  on  a 
four-days'  journey,  without  taking  with  him  a 
trunkful  of  books.  He  was  simply  true  to  his 
consciousness  in  saying  that,  if  he  were  to  go  to 
Newport  for  pleasure  without  his  books,  he  should 
hang  himself  before  evening. 

Yet,  with  his  instinctive  delight  in  learning,  and 
in  the  commerce  with  illustrious  minds  to  which  it 
introduced  him,  with  the  accumulating  acquisitions 
with  which  it  enriched  him,  and  the  constant  im- 
pressions upon  his  own  intellect  which  came  from 
eminent  orators  and  thinkers,  he  retained,  abso- 
lutely, the  native  peculiarities  of  a  genius  as  gen- 
uine, and  certainly  as  striking,  as  has  anywhere 
appeared  among  American  public  men.  You 
have  contrasted  him  with  Macaulay.  But  in  one 
respect  they  were  certainly  alike.  Both  "  carried 
lightly  their  load  of  learning."  His  mental  eye 
was  as  fine  as  a  microscope  for  almost  impercep- 
tible distinctions.  He  penetrated  instantly,  with 
affirmative  insight,  to  the  secret  of  entangled  and 


'A 


!d 


h 
d 


Ills  IMAGINATION. 


283 


complex  matters.  His  logical  faculty  was  as  keen 
and  expert  as  if  he  had  never  done  anything  else 
but  state  and  argue  questions  of  law  m  the  courts. 
His  memory  had  a  grasp,  which  was  utterly  re- 
lentless, on  any  principle,  fact,  or  phrase ;  while 
his  judgment  was  as  prompt,  within  its  limits  as 
sagacious,  as  if  he  had  never  heard  of  Greek  par- 
ticles and  never  had  read  a  Latin  page.  But  the 
hnagination  was  certainly  supreme  in  him ;  while 
his  fancy  was  also  as  sparkling  and  exuberant  as 
if  no  argument  had  ever  been  wrought  by  him  in 
its  constraining  and  infrangible  links.  This  made 
his  mind  not  only  stimulating  but  startling,  abun- 
dant in  surprises,  suddenly  radiant  on  far  themes. 
He  said  nothing  in  a  connnoni^lace  way.  A  flash 
of  unfamiliar  beauty  and  power  was  in  his  slight 
and  casual  remarks.  The  reports  of  some  of  them 
are  still,  I  suspect,  as  current  in  court-rooms  as 
when  he  lived ;  while,  on  the  larger  historical  or 
philosophical  subjects,  his  sentences,  now  and 
then,  were  as  literal  sunbursts,  enlightening  half 
a  continent  with  their  gleam.  He  said  as  little, 
I  should  think,  as  any  man  who  ever  lived,  of 
like  culture  and  equal  eminence,  on  the  supreme 
matters  of  God,  destiny,  immortality ;  but  I  can 
easily  understand,  what  I  used  to  be  told,  that, 
when  in  rare  and  preeminent  moods  he  touched 
these  topics,  among  intimate   friends,  his  words 


4 


i 


-     1 


! 


m 


I  '  k, 


il 


!i!i 


.WiX'i. 


^ 


284 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


were  to  the  usual  words  of  men  on  similar  sub- 
jects as  superb,  tropical  passion-flowers  among  the 
duller,  connnon  growths,  purple  and  golden  in 
their  hues,  while  inclosing  at  their  heart  memorial 
signs  of  the  Divine  sadness. 

With  this  sensitive,  vigorous,  and  various  gen- 
ius, and  these  large  acquisitions,  Mr.  Choate 
threw  himself,  with  all  the  energy  of  his  strenuous 
will,  into  his  chosen  profession  of  the  law.  He 
loved  it,  and  he  idealized  it.  He  was  proud  of 
its  history ;  he  exulted  in  its  great  names.  The 
law  was  to  him  the  expression  of  the  highest  jus- 
tice of  the  state,  enlightened  and  directed  by  its 
instructed  and  intuitive  reason.  It  essentially  con- 
cerned, therefore,  the  moral  life  of  communities 
and  of  centuries.  It  had  immense  historical  re- 
lations. As  obtaining  among  us,  for  example,  it 
was  the  impalpable,  vital  presence  which  con- 
nected our  recent,  fragmentary  history,  our  cir- 
cumscribed American  life,  with  the  great  life  of 
England,  and  with  its  renowned  and  crowded  an- 
nals, back  to  the  time  of  Edward  the  Confessor 
and  "  the  common  folk-right  of  the  realm  ;  "  back, 
indeed,  to  the  days  of  King  Alfred.  He  meant 
to  be  master  of  it,  by  the  most  exact,  profound, 
indefatigable  study  of  statutes,  cases,  and  the  prin- 
ciples they  involved.  I  perfectly  remember  how 
this  sovereign  and  far-reaching  view  of  the  law 


LOVE  FOR   THE  LA  W. 


285 


impressed  my  thought,  ami  stirred  my  enthusiasm, 
when  I  first  talked  with  him ;  how  fundamental 
it  was  in  the  scheme  of  study  which  he  outhned 
before  me ;  how  incessantly  it  reappeared,  when- 
ever I  met  him.  He  was  at  one  time,  certainly,  a 
most  searching  and  systematic  student  of  the  vast 
Roman  law  ;  and  no  novel  ever  fastened  the  eyes 
of  its  readers  as  did  any  book  which  ilkistrated 
the  principles,  the  practice,  or  the  history  of  the 
law,  the  eyes  and  mind  of  Mr.  Choate.  lie  loved 
to  regard  it  as  radically  grounded,  with  whatever 
imperfections,  in  the  enduring  cosmical  equities, 
deriving  from  them  its  virtue  and  validity.  The 
country  had  to  him  historical  importance  as  tiie 
home  of  a  matured  and  ubiquitous  law,  guarding 
the  weak,  avenging  the  humble,  restraining  wliile 
protecting  the  wealthiest  and  highest.  The  colo- 
nization of  the  country  was  impressive  to  him,  not 
so  much  for  its  picturesque  incidents  as  because  it 
had  brou":ht  hither  this  o-reat  inheritance  of  riu'lits 
and  of  rules,  acquired  through  ages.  Tlie  magis- 
trates of  the  law  were  venerable  to  him,  however 
plainly  inferior  to  himself  in  ability  and  learning. 
The  courts  were  temples  of  order  and  justice.  He 
spoke  only  the  feeling  of  his  life  when  he  said 
before  the  legislative  committee,  "  I  never  read, 
without  a  thrill  of  sublime  emotion,  the  conclud- 
ing words  of  the  Bill  of  Rights,  — '  to  the  end 


H 


111 


•f-f  ffl- 


\l 


'\WM\ 


■Hi! 


:    il! 


ii:       !h 


!l'l 


f      \ 


28G 


MEMORIES  OF  ItUFUS  CIIOATE. 


£i  1 


m  il 


that  this  may  be  a  government  of  law,  and  not 
of  men.' " 

The  application  of  the  law  to  cases  requiring 
careful  adjudication  was,  therefore,  to  him  a  mat- 
ter of  real  and  serious  importance.  In  connection 
with  it  he  recoiled  from  no  labor,  and  was  impa- 
tient of  no  details.  The  most  trivial  incidents 
became  critical  and  grave  when  they  furnished 
occasions  for  declaring  and  administering  those 
permanent  rules  of  social  order  whicli  had  been 
elaborated  through  centuries  of  years,  for  whicli 
brave  men  had  fought  and  suffered,  and  which 
had  their  fruit  in  the  peace  of  the  state,  as  they 
had  their  life  in  the  supreme  ethical  liar  monies. 

I  do  not  at  all  mean  to  imply  that  he  was  not 
intensely  ambitious  of  success,  in  whatever  cause 
he  undertook.  Certainlv  he  was  ;  and  the  fervid 
passion  grew  with  his  growth,  was  more  eager 
after  each  victory,  became  most  intense  when 
hts  famous  successes  had  prejudiced  juries,  made 
judges  wary  if  not  hostile,  and  rendered  future 
yirnilar  victories  almost  impossible.  Indeed,  his 
normal  rule  of  practice  distinctly  was,  that  each 
party  should  present  his  case  in  its  fullest  strength, 
with  whatsoever  could  make  it  persuasive ;  so 
that  out  of  the  sharpest  possible  collisions  of  argu- 
ment and  of  testimony  the  final  result  might  be 
deduced.     He  thought  of  his  client,  and  of  no- 


'J 

BO 


THE  MAJESTY  OF  THE  LAW 


287 


body  else,  when  ho  stood  for  him  before  a  tril)u- 
iiiil.  Everythinjj^  that  could  jxjssibly  .serve  tluit 
client  coiniiiiinded,  thereby,  his  zealous  approval. 
Everythin<^  that  threatened  him  was  somehow 
or  other  to  be  overcome.  If  the  lloor  ot  the 
court-room  had  fallen  beneath  him,  unless  it  had 
stunned  him,  I  am  sure  that  it  would  not  have 
beaten  from  his  mind  the  thought  of  his  case  for 
more  than  a  minute.  But  in  spite  of  this  he  had, 
when  1  knew  him,  an  ideal  sense  of  the  majesty 
of  the  law,  of  its  moral  dignity,  and  its  historical 
oflice,  which  gave  an  undertone,  delicate  and 
grand,  to  all  his  common  professional  work.  He 
could  not  have  labored  with  that  intensity  which 
was  constant  with  him,  except  for  this  inspiriting 
force ;  yet  I  have  no  idea  that  he  ever  knowingly 
misrepresented  a  principle  of  the  law  to  serve  the 
client,  who  was  to  him,  for  the  passing  moment,  as 
his  own  life.  Governor  Bullock  once  mentioned  to 
me  an  incident  which  came  under  his  notice  when 
Webster  and  Choate  were  antagonists  before  the 
court.  Mr.  Choate  had  lucidly,  with  great  em- 
phasis, stated  the  law.  Mr.  Webster  —  than  whom 
a  greater  master  of  attitude,  gesture,  and  facial 
expression  never  lived  —  turned  on  him  the  gaze 
of  his  great  eye,  as  if  in  mournful,  despairing  re- 
monstrance against  such  a  sad  and  strange  per- 
version.    "  That  is  the  law,  may  it  please  your 


in 


H 


1 


«•.• 


! 


i-;)r 


U    \l 


Ui 


288 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE. 


Honor,"  thundered  Mr.  Choate,  catching  the 
ghmce,  advancing  a  step,  and  looking  full  in  Web- 
ster's face,  "  That  is  the  law,  in  spite  of  the  ad- 
monishing, the  somewhat  ijateriial  look  in  the  eye 
of  my  illustrious  friend,"  ^  And  it  was  the  law, 
as  affirmed  by  the  court. 

The  fervent  enthusiasm  with  which  Mr.  Choate 
devoted  himself  to  the  trial  of  his  cases  could 
only  be  understood  by  those  who  recognized  the 
genius  of  the  man,  craving  exercise  and  excite- 
ment, his  culture  supplying  him  with  unmeasured 
resources,  and  the  admiration  which  he  felt  for  the 
law,  with  its  magistrates  and  tribunals.  It  had 
little  to  do  with  fees  or  with  applause.  It  was 
sometimes  shown  in  the  unnoticed  case,  in  the 
small  back-office  of  some  referee,  with  no  audience 
present,  as  fully  as  in  the  echoing  court-room,  on 
a  grand  field-day.  I  never  heard  of  a  mind  of 
such  compass  as  his,  so  energetic  and  so  aflluent, 
which  heated  so  quickly.  It  -vvas  like  a  superb 
Corliss  engine,  driven  for  days  with  a  bushel  of 
coal.     The  mere  attrition  of  any  case,  where  the 

*  Such  tlainty  anil  humorous  use  of  words  was  constant  with  liiin. 
"When  I  liail  been  two  days  on  the  lihino,"  he  said  to  me  at  Han- 
over, "  I  knew  the  whole  river  perfectly  ;  couldn't  have  known  it 
better  if  I  'd  been  drowned  in  it."  A  reputation  which  had  been 
damaged  in  the  courts  was,  "  to  make  the  best  of  it,  sadly  tene- 
brious."  His  "overworked  participle,"  his  description  of  the  wit- 
ness testifying,  in  a  case  where  a  tailor  was  concerned,  "  with  at)  eye 
to  jmntaloons  in  the  distance,"  etc.,  are  well-known. 


HIS  ENTHUSIASM. 


289 


facts  were  in  doubt  and  the  principles  obscure, 
was  enough  to  set  his  whole  force  in  activity. 
And  the  enthusiasm,  so  easily  enkindled,  was  as 
enduring  as  it  was  instantaneous.  It  almost  liter- 
ally knew  no  limit.  It  saw  every  difiiculty,  faced 
every  juridical  danger,  snatched  every  instrument 
of  impression,  watched  the  face  of  every  juror, 
took  instant  suggestion  from  the  eye  or  even 
the  attitude  of  the  judge,  felt  the  subtile  force 
of  the  general  feeling  pervading  the  court-room, 
kept  all  the  facts  and  all  the  principles  incessantly 
in  mind,  transfigured  them  all  in  the  radiance  of 
genius,  and  shot  his  vivid  interpretation  of  all 
upon  the  jury,  in  the  most  plausible,  deferential, 
captivating,  commanding  utterance  which  even 
lips  so  skilled  and  practiced  could  attain.  Weak- 
ness, languor,  sickness  itself  vanished  before  this 
invinciljle  spirit.  Haggard,  wan,  after  a  night  of 
sleepless  suffering,  his  throat  sore,  his  head  throb- 
bing, swathed  in  flannels,  buried  under  overcoats, 
with  wrappings  around  his  neck,  a  bandage  on  his 
knee,  a  blister  on  his  chest,  when  he  rose  for  his 
argument  all  facts  reported  by  witnesses  in  the 
case,  all  the  related  and  governing  precedents,  all 
legal  principles  bearing  upon  it,  all  passages  of 
history,  letters,  life,  that  might  illustrate  his  argu- 
ment or  confound  his  antagonists  seemed  visibV 
present  to  his  mind.     He  thought  of  nothing  but 

19 


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1 
I 


A 


\  ■ 


^\A 


290 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


jury  and  verdict.  His  eloquence  was  then  as 
completely  independent  of  technical  rule  as  are 
screams  of  passion,  or  the  shouts  of  a  mob.  He 
was  after  a  favorable  decision  of  the  case,  as  if 
his  own  life  depended  on  it.  Short,  sharp,  shat- 
tering words  rattled  like  volleys  before  and  after 
resounding  sentences.  Language  heaped  on  his 
lips.  Images,  delicate,  homely,  startling,  blazed 
upon  his  pictured  words.  The  common  court- 
room became  a  scene  of  the  most  astonishing 
intellectual  action.  Judge  Shaw  looked  at  him 
as  he  might  have  looked  at  the  firm-set  heavens, 
glittering  with  meteors.  The  farmers,  mechanics, 
traders,  on  the  jury,  were  seized,  swept  forward, 
stormed  upon,  with  an  utterance  so  unbounded  in 
variety  and  energy,  sometimes  so  pathetic,  some- 
times so  quaint,  sometimes  so  grotesque,  always  so 
controlling  and  impellent,  as  only  his  hearers  ever 
had  heard.  The  velocity  of  his  speech  was  almost 
unparalleled,  yet  the  poise  of  his  mind  was  as 
undisturbed  as  that  of  the  planet ;  and  each  vague 
doubt,  in  either  mind,  was  recognized  and  com- 
bated, unconscious  prejudices  were  delicately  con- 
ciliated, each  tendency  toward  his  view  of  the 
case  was  encouraged  and  confirmed,  each  leaning 
toward  his  opponent  was  found  out  and  fought, 
with  a  skill  which  other  men  toiled  after  in  vain, 
which  seemed  in  him  a  strange  inspiration. 


HIS  COURTESY. 


291 


No  wonder  that  he  sometimes  wrenched  the 
verdict  from  unwilUng  hands,  in  cases  which 
looked  to  outsiders  as  desperate  as  Bonaparte's 
charge  upon  the  bridge  of  Areola !  No  wonder 
that  his  profession  loved  and  admired  him  with  a 
fervor  of  feeling  which  twenty  years  have  not 
diminished,  and  that  "  grace  and  renown  "  were 
felt  to  have  departed  from  darkened  court-rooms 
when  his  incomparable  mind  and  mien  were  no 
more  present !  No  wonder  that  Mr.  R.  H.  Dana 
said,  in  substance,  at  the  meeting  of  the  bar  after 
his  death,  "  The  great  Conqueror,  unseen  and 
irresistible,  has  broken  into  our  temple,  and  has 
carried  off  the  vessels  of  gold,  the  vessels  of  sil- 
ver, the  precious  stones,  and  the  ivory,  and  we 
must  content  ourselves  hereafter  with  vessels  of 
wood  and  stone  and  iron!" 

I  have  spoken,  my  dear  Judge,  simply  of  Mr. 
Choatc's  intellectual  endowments,  and  of  his  rare 
mental  equipment,  as  these  impressed  me  more 
than  thirty  years  ago.  Of  the  sweet  courtesy 
of  his  feeling  and  manner  in  social  life,  of  his 
constancy  to  his  friends,  his  generosity  toward 
his  juniors,  his  unfeigned  deference  toward  the 
bench,  of  his  unresentful  spirit  toward  assailants, 
his  utter  want  of  political  ambition  or  pecuniary 
greed,  his  chivalrous  devotion  to  what  he  esteemed 
the  best  public  policy,  though  it  severed  him  from 


.ij  '? 


M  ■ 

ill' 


i 


1.1 1 


292 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


lit) 


friends  and  added  new  shadows  to  his  last  years, 
of  his  blanielessness  of  life,  especially  of  his  habit- 
ual respect  for  the  Divine  Revelation,  and  for  the 
house  and  the  ordinances  of  worship,  —  of  these 
I  retain  such  happy  recollections  as  all  those  must 
who  chanced  then,  even  slightly,  to  know  him. 

But  I  have  immensely  outrun  already  the  in- 
tended limits  of  my  letter,  and  other  pens  must 
delineate  these.  I  have  said  enough,  I  am  sure, 
to  show  you  why  I  am  grateful  for  his  influence 
upon  me,  which  was  far  greater  than  he  knew, 
and  why  —  though  I  see  the  limitations  of  his 
mind,  and  was  never  in  sympathy  with  some  of 
his  opinions  —  I  retain  his  image  with  a  fond- 
ness and  a  regret  that  never  will  cease.  I  cannot 
think  of  him  to-day  without  being  braced  against 
any  temptation  to  languor  in  study  or  remissness 
in  work ;  without  feeling  afresh  the  vastness  and 
the  charm  of  that  world  of  thought  and  of  elegant 
letters  in  which  his  spirit  rejoiced  to  expatiate ; 
without  being  consciously  grateful  to  God  'that, 
at  the  age  when  I  took  impressions  most  readily 
from  others,  I  was  brought  for  a  time  into  con- 
tact with  a  mind  so  remarkable  as  his,  so  rich  in 
knowledge  and  so  replete  with  every  force,  with 
a  temper  so  engaging,  with  an  intellectual  en- 
thusiasm so  incessant  and  inspiring. 

Ever,  my  dear  Judge,  faithfully  yours, 

R.  s.  STORRS. 


LETTER  FROM  MATTHEW  II.  CARPENTER. 


Ilf 


Tnis  letter  from  the  late  Matthew  H.  Carpen- 
ter, formerly  United  States  Senator  from  Wiscon- 
sin, is  important  not  only  by  reason  of  his  high 
character  as  a  lawyer,  but  because  he  had  been  a 
student  under  Mr.  Choate. 


W 


Dear  Sir,  —  Returning  from  Washington,  I  have 
just  found  yours  of  the  18th.  I  have  read  your 
two  articles  in  the  "  Law  Journal "  on  Rufus 
Choate.  Your  articles  are  an  excellent  and  truth- 
ful generalization  of  his  character,  professional  and 
political. 

He  was  more  than  a  father  to  me,  and  I  loved 
him  next  to  idolatry.  I  studied  law  with  him 
in  1847  and  1848.  The  most  striking  of  nil  his 
characteristics  was  his  reo:ard  for  the  feelings  of 
others.  Whatever  he  might  say  in  the  excite- 
ment of  a  trial  in  regard  to  the  opposite  party,  or 
even  of  witnesses  whom  he  disbelieved,  he  was.  in 
his  office,  and  in  all  professional  and  social  inter- 
course, most  considerate  of  the  feelings  of  others. 


m 


m 


It! 


294 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


I  never  heard  him  speak  an  impatient  or  angry 
word  in  my  life.  Especially  to  young  men  did  he 
show  this  tender  consideration.  Webster's  pres- 
ence overawed  a  young  man ;  Choate  impressed 
the  young  man  with  his  greatness,  but  he  did  so 
by  lifting  him  for  the  time  up  to  his  own  level. 
His  genius  seemed  to  be  an  inspiration  to  every 
young  man  who  entered  his  presence  ;  and  those 
who  had  the  honor  of  his  acquaintance  regarded 
him  with  an  admiration  akin  to  hero-worship. 
Even  the  old  man  who  tended  the  fire  in  the  of- 
fice never  entered  Mr.  Choate's  room  without  re- 
ceiving some  kindly  salutation.  His  name  was 
John  — John  what  I  never  knew.  But  Mr.  Choate 
always  called  him  Johannes^  with  a  tone  of  ten- 
derness and  affection  which  delighted  him,  and 
which  lingers  in  my  ear  to  this  day. 

One  of  Mr.  Choate's  characteristics  was  to 
idealize  everything.  His  perception  of  subtile 
analogies  tinged  his  mind,  and  appears  in  his 
utterances;  in  his  mental  atmosphere  all  things, 
however  common  or  even  unclean,  became  trans- 
formed, beautiful. 

Another  feature  was  his  charity.  From  those 
who  would  borrow  he  turned  not  away.  I  re- 
member an  occasion  when  he  was  exceedingly 
driven  in  the  preparation  of  a  brief  that  had  to 
be  printed  for  use  the  next  morning.     He  was  ex- 


IN  A  WE   OF   WEBSTER. 


295 


amining  the  authorities,  and  dictating  to  me  as 
his  amanuensis.  By  some  inadvertence,  his  door 
was  not  locked,  as  it  usually  was,  and  a  squalid 
beggar  made  his  way  into  Mr.  Choate's  presence. 
He  had  all  day  refused  to  see  lawyers,  doctors, 
authors,  and  others.  But,  seeing  the  old  man, 
he  turned  to  me  and  said,  "  My  boy,  charity  is  a 
privileged  subject,  always  in  order.  Let  us  hear 
what  the  old  man  has  to  say."  After  listening  for 
a  while,  he  determined  to  give  him  three  dollars, 
and  made  faithful  search  through  his  pockets 
without  findiniij  the  amount.  lie  then  borrowed 
the  money  of  me,  and  gave  it  to  the  old  man  ; 
and  the  next  morning,  when  he  came  into  the 
office  with  three  or  four  overcoats  on,  he  had 
three  dollars  in  his  hand,  which  he  threw  down 
on  my  table  saying,  "  There  is  nothing  quite  so 
mean  as  borrowing  a  small  sum  of  money  and 
forgetting  to  pay  it." 

He  always  stood  in  awe  of  Webster,  and  spent 
nights  in  preparation  when  about  to  contend  with 
him  at  the  bar.  This  I  never  could  understand ; 
as  a  mere  lawyer,  I  think  Choate  as  much  the 
superior  of  Webster  as  Webster  was  the  superior 
of  lawyers  generally.  His  knowledge  of  the  law, 
his  readiness  in  using  all  his  resources,  legal,  liter- 
ary, historical,  or  poetical,  his  power  of  advocacy, 
the  magnetism  of  his  presence  and  the  absolute 


m 


I  : 


4:1 


" 


M'A 


I 


i 


u\ 


I 


Xi' 


296 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


!     .) 


U:l 


enchantment  in  which  he  wrapt  both  court  and 
jury  never  were  equaled  in  any  other  man,  I 
believe.  I  remember  an  instance  of  one  of 
Choate's  clients  coming  into  his  office  in  great 
glee,  and  informing  Mr.  Choate  that  he  had  just 
met  his  antagonist,  who  had  said  he  expected  to 
be  beaten  in  the  case,  because  he  had  nobody  but 
Mr.  Webster,  who  would  pay  no  attention  to  the 
case  until  it  was  called  for  trial,  while  Mr.  Choate 
would  be  thoroughly  prepared  on  every  polut. 
Mr.  Choate  seemed  to  be  rather  displeased  than 
flattered,  and,  turning  to  his  client  in  a  soleum, 
almost  tragic,  manner,  he  said,  "  Beware  of  any 
hope  that  rests  upon  undervaluation  of  Mr.  Web- 
ster. He  will  be  there  on  the  morning  of  the 
trial  with  one  case  from  the  Term  Reports  exactly 
in  point;  and,  if  we  escape  with  our  lives,  so 
much  the  better  for  us." 

I  think  he  had  formed  the  resolution  that  no 
man  should  leave  his  office  except  in  a  pleasant 
mood,  if  not  in  a  roar  of  laughter.  I  remember 
that  on  one  occasion  a  clergyman  came  to  consult 
him  about  a  matter  full  of  sorrow.  During  the 
consultation,  Mr.  Choate  was  very  much  afTectcd, 
and  I  knew  from  his  tremulous  tone,  without  look- 
ing at  him,  that  his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears.  I 
thought  at  that  time  that  the  old  clergyman 
would  be  an  exception,  but  I  was  mistaken.     Mr. 


r. 


BADINAGE  AND  REVERENCE. 


297 


Cho.ate  followed  him  to  the  door  mid  opened  it 
and  made  some  remark  which  I  did  not  hear,  but 
which  literally  convulsed  the  old  clergyman. 

Mr.  Choate's  wit  and  humor  were  all  the  more 
effective  from  the  fact  that  God  never  put  upon 
a  man,  except  perhaps  Lincoln,  so  sad  a  face. 

During  all  the  time  I  was  with  him,  his  health 
was  more  or  less  disturbed,  and  his  face  was  elo- 
quently expressive  of  constant  anguish.  Many  a 
time  I  have  seen  him  come  into  the  ofhce  from 
the  court-room,  the  personification  of  weariness 
and  sorrow,  so  much  so  that  often  merely  looking 
in  his  face  has  forced  the  moisture  to  my  eyes. 
But  the  tear  never  reached  my  cheek  before  he 
would  set  me  laughing  with  some  quaint  remark. 
I  remember  his  coming  into  the  ofBce  and  telling 
me  that  the  Supreme  Court  of  Massachusetts  had 
just  decided  an  important  cause  against  him,  evi- 
dently to  his  great  surprise.  He  threw  down 
some  books  and  papers  on  his  desk,  and  after  tell- 
ing me  of  the  decision,  added  in  a  half-serious, 
half-playful  way,  "  Every  judrje  on  that  bench 
seems  to  be  more  stupid  ihcui  every  other  one; 
and  if  I  were  not  afraid  of  Icsing  the  good  opinion 
of  the  Court  I  would  impeach  the  whole  l)atcli  of 
them."  Yet,  notwithstanding  such  badinage,  his 
reverence  for  the  Court,  and  especially  for  Chief 
Justice  Shaw,  was  unbounded.     As  a  further  in- 


!>. 


i    1,   i   t 

H  V  1 

■■ir\ 
i 


■il,^ 


Hi 


298 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CLVATE. 


stance  of  such  pleasantry,  Stevenson,  the  sculptor, 
told  me  that  he  was  once  engaged  in  carving  a 
lion  of  exaggerated  size ;  that,  while  he  was  en- 
gaged on  the  head  and  mane,  Mr.  Choate  took  the 
liveliest  interest  in  the  work,  calling  every  morn- 
ing as  he  came  down,  and  every  evening  on  his 
way  home,  to  mark  its  progress.  Stevenson,  be- 
ing curious,  asked  Mr.  Choate  why  that  work  in- 
terested him  so  much.  "  Why,"  said  Mr.  Choate, 
"  that  is  the  best  likeness  of  Chief  Justice  Shaw 
that  I  ever  saw." 

His  complete  mastery  over  the  melancholy,  the 
gloomy  emotions  of  human  nature,  has  reconciled 
me  to  Shakespeare's  representation  of  Richard  the 
Third's  making  love  to  Anne  in  the  funeral  pro- 
cession of  her  husband.  Had  Mr.  Choate  thus 
met  her,  he  could  have  lifted  the  shadows  from 
her  heart. 

I  could  go  on  much  longer  without  being  weary 
of  the  subject ;  and,  although  this  has  been  dic- 
tated in  haste,  it  may  be  some  confirmation  of  the 
view  of  Mr.  Choate's  character  which  you  have  so 
admirably  set  forth.         Yours  truly, 

MATT.  H.  CARrENTER. 
To  Hon.  J.  Neilson. 


LETTER  FROM  JAMES  T.  FIELDS. 


It  was  fortunate  that  the  late  James  T.  Fields 
was  able  to  leave  this  record  of  his  love  and  ad- 
miration of  Mr.  Choate  :  — 


'i  ^^" 


' 


My  dear  Sir,  —  I  thank  you  for  those  numbers 
of  the  "  Albany  Law  Journal "  containing  your 
interesting  papers  on  Mr.  Choate.  Everything 
with  reference  to  that  great  man  is  most  attrac- 
tive to  me,  and  I  could  not  resist  the  impulse  of 
writing  a  lecture  not  long  ago  on  his  brilliant 
career,  that  I  might  say  something  to  young  stu- 
dents, inadequate  though  it  might  be,  that  would 
perhaps  incite  them,  by  his  example  of  untiring 
industry,  to  a  more  enthusiastic  pursuit  of  knowl- 
edge, and  a  more  earnest  study  of  the  art  of  elo- 
quence. That  lecture  has  already  been  delivered 
in  various  colleg-s  and  law  schools,  and  I  hope 
has  led  some  of  my  listeners  to  read  Professor 
Brown's  memoir  of  our  great  advocate,  your  own 
papers  in  the  "  Law  Journal,"  and  the  reminis- 
cences of  Dr.  Storrs,  Mr.  Carpenter,  and  others, 
who  knew  and  appreciated  him. 


1 


t    I 


300 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


I  wish  I  had  the  opportunity  to  comply  more 
closely  with  your  kind  rcquo«t,  and  send  a  better 
response  to  your  invitation.  .  can  only,  before 
getting  off  for  the  summer,  send  you  this  fragmen- 
tary epistle. 

Mr.  Choate  is  now,  to  employ  Lander's  signifi- 
cant line, 

"Beyond  the  arrows,  shouts,  and  views  of  inon," 

and  his  supreme  qualities  are  only  beginning  to  be 
apparent  in  their  grander  aspects.  As  a  law  \  or, 
ranking  among  the  highest ;  as  an  eloquent  advo- 
cate, second  not  even  to  Lor^  Erskine,  whom  he 
far  surpassed  in  scholarship  a  patriot,  devoted 
to  public  duty  solely ;  he  is  now  taking  his  place 
without  a  rival  and  without  a  cavil.  Years  ago  I 
hung  up  his  portrait  in  the  little  room  we  called 
"  our  library,"  for  a  constant  reminder  of  the  long- 
continued  enjoyment  it  was  my  own  good  fortune 
to  have  derived  from  the  kind-hearted  Mentor  and 
friend.  To  have  had  the  privilege  of  living  in  the 
same  city  with  him  for  so  many  years,  of  hearing 
the  sound  of  his  voice  in  public  and  in  private  for 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  was  indeed  of  itself  an  ed- 
ucation. To  the  young  men  of  my  time,  who 
lived  so  much  under  the  spell  of  his  eloquence,  he 
was  an  inspirer,  an  initiator ;  for  he  taught  us  by 
his  example  to  reverence  and  seek  whatever  was 
learnino;,  and   excellent  in  t] 


'b> 


igi 


Mkitim 


INFLUENCE  ON  YOUNG  MEN. 


301 


ch.aractor.  As  yoiuiG^  stiuloiits  of  lltoraturo,  eager 
to  listen  and  aoquire  if  we  could,  wo  found  a  new 
power  created  within  us  hy  contact  even  with  such 
a  teachei"  and  guide.  To  follow  hiin,  to  wait  upon 
his  footsteps  through  the  courts  of  law,  the  Senate, 
or  the  lecture-room,  was  in  a  rortain  sense  to  be 

"  From  unreflecting  ignorance  prcservc^l." 

His  own  great  acquirements  taught  us  to  nurse 
that  noble  self-discontent  which  points  and  leads 
to  a  loftier  region  of  culture,  and  impelled  us  to 
aspirations  avc  had  never  dreamed  of  until  his  af- 
fluent genius  led  the  way.  Like  Charles  Fox,  he 
was  born  with  the  oratorical  temperauicnt,  and  so 
he  magnetized  all  the  younger  men  who  flocked 
about  him  eager  to  be  instructed.  I  do  not  believe 
the  "  high-placed  personage  "  ever  lived  in  any 
community  who  had  more  affection  and  reverence 
from  the  youth  of  his  time  than  Mr.  Choate. 
There  were  about  him  habitually  that  diffusive 
love  and  tenderness  which  make  idolatry  possible 
even  among  one's  contemporaries.  While  he  elec- 
trified us,  he  called  us  l)y  our  Christian  names ; 
and  when  he  beckoned  us  to  come,  we  dared  and 
delighted  to  stand  by  his  side  and  listen.  Ilis  will- 
ing and  endearing  helpfulness  made  him  beloved 
by  his  inferiors  as  few  men  of  his  conspicuous  em- 
inence ever  were  before,  and  one  could  not  ap- 
proach him  and  remain  unmoved  or  only  partially 


i 


m 


.. 


■  :  ■ 


:i 


rti* 


302 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


1  a  •  ii  ! 


'Ml 


attracted.  You  could  not  meet  him  on  the  street, 
even,  without  having  a  fresh  imjiulse  given  to 
your  circulation.  During  the  period  when  he  took 
early  morning  walks,  some  of  us,  mere  boys  at 
that  time,  loving  the  sight  of  the  man  and  the 
music  of  his  voice,  used  to  be  on  his  track,  watch- 
ing for  him  on  his  matutnial  rounds.  As  he  came 
sailing  into  view 

"  On  broad,  imf)enal  wings," 

with  that  superb  and  natural  gait  so  easily  recog- 
nized by  those  who  knew  him, 

"  Far  off  bis  coming  shone." 

As  he  swung  himself  past,  he  w^ould  drop  into 
our  greedy  ears  some  healthy,  exhilarating  quota- 
tion, fresh  from  the  fount  of  song ;  some  golden 
sentence  suited  to  the  day  and  hour ;  something 
ample  and  suggestive  that  would  linger  in  our 
memories  and  haunt  our  young  imaginations  years 
afterward,  influencing  perhaps  our  whole  lives 
onward. 

Happy  the  youth  who  was  occasionally  privi- 
leged to  walk  with  him  on  such  occasions, 

"  Under  the  opening  eyelids  of  the  morn," 

for  then  he  would  discuss,  perhaps  in  his  deep  and 
never-to-be-forgotten  tones  of  admiration,  the  lofty 
Homeric  poems ;  quote  the  divine,  and  to  him  fa- 
miliar, words  of  Plato ;  dilate  with  a  kindred  rap- 
ture over  some  memorable  passage  of  Plutarch ; 


PARTY  STRIFE  DISTASTEFUL   TO  HIM.     303 

or  hold  up  for  counsel  and  admonition  some  of  the 
sublimcst  inspirations  of  the  Bible.  Well  might  a 
young  man,  thus  enchanted,  exclaim  Avith  Comus, 

"  Ob,  such  a  sacred  and  bonie-fclt  delight, 
Such  sober  certainty  of  waking  bliss 
I  never  beard  till  now!  " 

He  seemed  ever  on  the  alert  to  quicken  and  in- 
spire thought  in  the  heart  and  understanding  of 
the  voung.  I  remember,  on  the  eve  of  saiUu";  on 
my  first  brief  visit  to  Europe,  he  passed  me  on  the 
stairs  at  a  crowded  reception,  and  whispered  as  he 
went  by,  "  Don't  fail,  my  young  friend,  if  you  go 
near  it  in  your  travels,  to  pause  at  the  grave  of 
Erasmus  for  me." 

It  was  dangerous  for  any  young  man,  not  a  stu- 
dent at  law,  to  hear  him  discourse  of  the  profession 
as  he  fully  and  solemnly  believed  in  it,  accepting 
as  he  did  the  splendid  metaphor  of  Hooker, — 
"  Her  seat  the  bosom  of  God  ;  her  voice  the  har- 
mony of  the  world ;  all  things  in  heaven  and 
earth  doing  her  homage  ;  the  very  least  as  feel- 
ing her  care,  and  the  greatest  as  not  exempted 
from  her  power."  One  of  Choate's  former  oilice 
students  once  said  to  him,  "  The  more  I  get  into 
practice  the  more  I  like  the  law."  "  Like  it ! " 
said  Choate,  "  of  course  you  do.  There  is  noth- 
ing else  for  any  man  of  intellect  to  like."  This 
was  said  in  that  fine  frenzy  of  exaggeration  which 


i   i  \ 


304 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


he  sometimes  delighted  in,  but  no  young  man 
could  hear  him  discourse  of  jurisprudence  and  not 
wish  to  join  the  ranks.  Law  was  tlie  banner  of 
his  pride  ;  the  llux  and  reilux  of  party  strife  were 
distasteful  to  every  fibre  of  his  intellect ;  and  he 
always  gave  us  tc  understand  that  he  considered 
his  profession  worthy  of  all  the  hope  of  ambition, 
and  all  the  aspirations  for  excellence.  At  the 
bar  Mr.  Choate  towered  superior  to  every  kind 
of  jealousy,  of  suspicion,  of  malevolence,  to  every 
narrow  and  sordid  motive,  to  all  the  meaner 
trepidations  of  mortality,  lie  was  by  nature  a 
gentleman,  and  he  had  no  petty  vanities,  either 
public  or  private.  He  was  indeed  an  inspired  ora- 
tor. What  power,  what  tenderness,  what  magnet- 
ism pervaded  his  utterances  !  His  voice  vibrated 
with  every  sentiment,  every  impulse  of  beauty 
and  wisdom.  He  ran  over  the  whole  gamut  of 
expression  at  will.  When  he  spoke  of  flowers,  his 
words  seemed  to  have  the  very  perfume  of  flowers 
in  them ;  and  when  he  painted  the  ocean,  which 
he  loved  so  fondly,  his  tone  was  as  the  scent  of 
the  sea  when  the  wind  blows  the  foam  in  our  faces. 
As  Churchill  said  of  Garrick,  he  also  had  indeed 

•'  Strange  powers  that  lie 
Within  the  magic  circle  of  his  eye." 

If  he  habitually  composed  for  the  ear  more  than 
for  the  eye,  it  was  because  his  victories  were  to 


BEN  JONSON  AND  LORD  BACON. 


305 


be  won  face  to  face  with  his  fellow-men.  I  have 
heard  him  argue  a  hundred  cases,  perhaps,  large 
and  small,  and  he  always  seemed  alike  invincible, 
as  if  no  mortal  power  could  take  his  verdict  from 
him.  His  manner  to  the  opposing  counsel  wms 
full  of  courtesy  and  conciliation  ;  but  if  that  coun- 
sel became  arrogant  and  insulting  he  would  slay 
him  with  a  sentence  so  full  of  suavitv  and  keen- 
ness  that  the  unmannerly  victim  never  knew  what 
killed  him. 

There  were  uninstructed  and  unsympathetic  lis- 
teners, of  course,  who  described  Mr.  Choate  as 
declamatory,  and  accused  him  of  being  over- 
worded  and  over-colored,  —  "  driving  a  substan- 
tive and  six,"  as  they  called  it,  —  but  those  same 
platitudinous  dwellers  in  the  twilight  of  the  mind 
would  no  doubt  quarrel  with  the  tints  in  Milton's 
"L' Allegro,"  and  find  Colhns's  "Ode  to  the  Pas- 
sions "  highly  improper.  Mr.  Choate  was  no 
doubt  rich  and  exuberant  in  his  style,  but  who 
w^ould  not  prefer  the  leap  of  the  torrent  to  the 
stagnation  of  the  swamp  ?  It  was  truly  said  by 
Mr.  Everett,  in  Faneuil  Hall,  at  the  sad  hour  of 
our  sharp  bereavement  in  1859,  that  with  such 
endowments  as  Mr.  Choate  possessed  he  could  fill 
no  second  place.  Thinking  of  the  magic  orator, 
the  profoimd  lawyer,  logician,  and  scholar,  I  recall 
Ben  Jonson's  memorable  words  on  the  wonderful 

20 


U 


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n 


I 


^ItM 


j 

I 

i. 

1 

1 

1 

'M! 


Ill 


306 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


power  of  Lord  Bacon,  for  they  are  all  applicable 
to  Mr.  Choate,  — "  There  happened  in  my  time 
one  noble  speaker,  who  was  full  of  gravity  in  his 
speaking.  His  language  (where  he  could  spare 
or  pass  by  a  jest)  was  nobly  censorious.  No  man 
ever  spoke  more  neatly,  more  pressly,  more 
weightily,  or  suffered  less  idleness  in  what  he  ut- 
tered. No  member  of  his  speech  but  consisted  of 
his  own  graces.  His  hearer  could  not  cough  or 
look  aside  from  him  without  loss.  He  commanded 
where  he  spoke,  and  had  his  judges  angry  and 
pleased  at  his  devotion.  No  man  had  their  affec- 
tions more  in  his  power.  The  fear  of  every  one 
that  heard  liim  was  lest  he  should  make  an  end." 
And  that  was  just  the  fear  we  all  had  when  Choate 
was  speaking,  —  lest  he  should  stop,  lest  the  sound 
of  his  perfect  voice  should  cease,  —  lest  he  too 
should  make  an  end.  I  cannot  but  lament  that 
those  who  have  more  recently  put  on  the  legal 
robes,  and  whose  steps  are  yet  on  the  threshold  of 
life,  can  have  no  chance  of  ever  hearing  those 
magic  tones  which  so  thrilled  the  young  students 
of  my  time,  and  realized  to  us  that  sovereign  gen- 
ius which  unites  the  faculty  of  reasoning  with  the 
faculty  of  imagination. 

My  letter  is  already  too  long.    Pardon  my  pro- 
lixity, and  believe  me,  dear   sir,  most  cordially 


yours 


JAMES  T.  FIELDS. 


To  Judge  Neilson. 


mi' 


LETTER  FROM  DR.   BOYDEN. 


Dr.  Boyden,  of  Beverly,  Mass.,  an  intimate 
friend  of  Mr.  Choate's,  had  the  kindness  to  send 
me  the  following :  — 

We  entered  college  together  in  1815.  He  was 
betAveen  fifteen  and  sixteen  years  of  age,  very 
youthful  and  engaging  in  appearance,  modest  and 
unpretentious  in  manner.  He  had  been  fitted  for 
college  in  a  rather  desultory  way,  his  preliminary 
studies  with  the  minister,  the  doctor,  and  the 
schoolmaster  having  been  interrupted  by  seasons 
of  work  on  his  father's  farm.  He  had  spent  a 
short  time  at  Hampton  Academy  just  before  com- 
ing to  Dartmouth.  Several  students,  fresh  from 
Andover,  entered  at  the  same  time.  They  were 
more  fully  prepared  than  he,  and,  at  the  start, 
showed  to  better  advantage  in  their  recitations. 
But  by  and  by  some  of  these  began  to  fall  from 
their  first  estate,  and  it  was  remarked  about  the 
same  time,  that  "  That  young  Choate  in  the  cor- 
ner recited  remarkably  well."     Before  the  end  of 


^iii 


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308 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


ml  f 


the  first  term  he  was  the  acknowledged  leader  of 
the  class,  and  he  maintained  that  position  until 
graduation,  without  apparent  difficulty.  No  one 
pretended  to  rival  him,  nor  did  he  invite  compari- 
son. He  paid  little  attention  to  the  proficiency 
of  his  fellow-students.  His  talk  was  of  eminent 
scholars  of  other  countries  and  of  former  times, 
and  they  seemed  the  objects  of  his  emulation. 
One  European  scholar  being  mentioned  as  hav- 
ing committed  to  memory  the  Greek  primitives, 
Choate  seems  to  have  accepted  the  suggestion  as 
a  valuable  one.  A  few  weeks  afterward  I  was  in 
his  room,  and  he  asked  me  to  hear  him  recite.  I 
took  a  book  and  heard  him  repeat  page  after 
page  of  Greek  primitives,  without  ostentation,  but 
merely,  to  all  appearance,  to  test  himself. 

He  did  not  limit  his  studies  to  the  curriculum. 
After  the  first  year  he  read  a  great  deal  beyond 
the  prescribed  coarse,  especially  in  Cicero,  of 
whose  works  he  thus  went  over  several,  and  took 
up,  besides,  some  of  the  Greek  authors. 

He  neglected  athletic  exercises  almost  entirely. 
His  chief  relaxations  from  study  were  of  a  so- 
cial character.  He  would  get  half  a  dozen  of  the 
students  into  his  room,  and,  refreshments  being 
obtained,  would  give  himself  up  with  them  to 
having  a  "  good  time." 

In  the  public  exercises  of   the  college  he  at- 


,!s; 


wn 


m 


AN  OLD  LAWYER   SURPRLSED. 


309 


,t- 


tracted  much  attention.  If  lie  had  an  oration  to 
deUver,  the  audience  was  ahvays  eager  to  hear  it, 
and  generally  was  rewarded  by  a  masterly  effort. 
•  As  we  adopted  different  professions,  he  the  law, 
and  I  medicine,  I  had,  much  to  my  regret,  few 
opportunities  of  witnessing  the  displays  of  his 
maturer  powers.  But  our  personal  intimacy  was 
very  great, and  continued  through  life. 

I  had,  from  the  first,  no  doubt  that  he  would 
strive  for,  and  attain,  the  foremost  rank  in  his 
profession.  When  he  commenced  practice  in  Sa- 
lem, w^e  had  two  or  three  old  lawyers,  of  whom 
Mr.  Thorndyke  was  one.  I  said  to  him,  "  Mr. 
Clioate  is  not  in  the  Superior  Court  yet  (his  time 
not  having  expired  in  the  Common  Pleas) ;  but  I 
know  him  very  well,  and  he  will  be  at  the  head  of 
the  Essex  bar  as  soon  as  he  can  get  there."  The 
old  lawyer  looked  at  me  with  surprise  and  incre- 
dulity ;  but  I  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  him, 
before  many  years  had  elapsed,  admit  the  fulfill- 
ment of  my  prophecy. 

During  the  earlier  years  of  his  practice,  he 
sometimes  spoke  to  me  of  his  aspirations,  one  of 
which  was  to  be  one  of  our  chief  justices.  He 
was  offered  a  judgeship  afterward,  but  never 
could  afford  to  accept. 

His  professional  income  he  spent  lavishly.  He 
gave  away  a  great  deal,  and  neglected,  in  many 


f-  'ti' 


J  i 


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310 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


instances,  to  collect  or  to  charge  for  his  services. 
He  was  careless  in  payment,  too,  but  never  to  the 
point  of  injustice.  Having  borrowed  a  sum  of 
money  when  a  young  man,  he  retained  it  for 
many  years,  always  paying  interest,  though  it  is 
certain  he  could  have  repaid  the  principal  many 
times  over  if  it  had  been  necessary.  Finally  I,  as 
the  representative  of  one  of  the  heirs  of  the 
lender,  had  occasion  to  ask  for  the  money,  and  it 
was  paid  at  once.  When  paying  the  interest,  he 
said  to  me  on  one  occasion,  "  You  have  had  some 
trouble  about  this,  I  will  give  you  your  law ; " 
and  he  did,  both  advice  and  service,  when  needed. 
I  had  occasion  to  know  much  of  his  benefactions, 
as  I  was  sometimes  his  almoner.  Some  instances 
of  his  generosity  I  communicated  to  Mr.  Brown, 
when  he  was  preparing  his  book. 

His  love  of  study  lasted  through  life,  and  he 
accounted  it  as  one  of  his  chief  blessings.  In 
speaking  to  me  of  his  son  one  day,  he  held  up  his 
hand  and  said,  "  I  would  give  that  finger  if  it 
would  make  him  love  study  as  I  do." 

The  humorous  side  of  his  character  has  been, 
to  so  great  an  extent,  that  on  which  the  public 
attention  has  been  hitherto  fixed  that  it  needs 
no  illustration.  But  the  evenness  of  his  temper 
is  worth  remarking.  He  was  always  agreeable, 
genial,  companionable,  playful  even,  toward  those 


NOT  LIKE  OTHER  MEN. 


311 


with  whom  he  was  intimate.  I  could  never  be 
long  in  his  company  without  hearing  some  en- 
livening pleasantry. 

I  do  not  think  Mr.  Choate  was  fitted  to  be  a 
leader  in  politics.  He  was  constitutionally  timid 
and  conservative.  Given  a  leader,  like  Webster, 
he  was  a  useful  and  zealous  supporter.  Let  him 
have  a  question  to  argue,  and,  if  he  felt  that  the 
country  was  his  client,  he  waxed  eloquent  and 
sought  eagerly  for  victory.  During  Webster's 
lifetime  he  initiated  no  policy.  The  latter,  on  his 
death-bed,  told  Choate,  "  You  have  a  great  future 
before  you  if  you  go  with  the  party  and  direct 
them."  Choate  could  go  with  the  party  —  he 
could  even  go  against  it ;  but  the  instinct  of  lead- 
ership was  weak  in  him ;  to  control  the  party  was 
work  to  which  he  was  not  fitted,  an  up-hill  labor. 

It  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  describe  or  to  char- 
acterize such  a  man.  He  was  unlike  any  other  I 
have  known.  Webster  seemed  to  be  a  good  deal 
like  other  folks,  only  there  was  more  of  him. 
But  Choate  was  peculiar;  —  a  strange,  beautiful 
product  of  our  time,  not  to  be  measured  by  refer- 
ence to  ordinary  men. 


.!. 


li 


i    '  -f  i 


ii! 


.  '  I 


. .  •'  ■  i 

i 

i 
1             1. 

* 

'1-     ' 

i 

K  \       ,.:.        , 

Jt^i 

iim^ 

rFfT 


M 


tiUHi: 


if-l 


m 


H! 


LETTER  FROxM  EMORY  WASHBURN. 


The  late  Emory  Washburn  sent  me  this  tribute 
to  the  memory  of  Ruf  us  Choate  :  — 

Dear  Sir,  —  It  is  with  much  hesitation  and 
misgiving  that  I  enter  upon  the  attempt  to  com- 
ply with  your  flattering  request  to  give  you  some 
of  my  recollections  of  Mr.  Choate.  Aside  from 
the  difficulty  in  describing  a  man  of  such  varied 
and  peculiar  characteristics  and  qualities,  it  is  to 
be  borne  in  mind  that  it  is  already  seventeen 
years  since  his  death,  and  that,  during  that  time, 
impressions  originally  strong  have  been  growing 
fainter,  and  the  incidents  and  events  of  his  life 
becoming  less  distinctly  defined,  and  that  many 
things  which  were  worthy  of  notice  at  the  time 
they  occurred  have  lost  their  interest  for  want  of 
surrounding  circumstances.  All  I  ohall  attempt 
will  be  to  recall  general  impressions  rather  than 
distinct  incidents. 

While  I  have  no  right  to  claim  any  special  in- 
timacy with  Mr.  Choate,  I  met  him   too  often, 


HIS  PERSONAL  APPEARANCE. 


313 


after  our  first  meeting  in  the  Legislature  of  1825, 
in  private  and  social  life,  as  well  as  at  the  bar  and 
in  the  courts  and  in  public  assemblies,  not  to  re- 
ceive and  retain  pretty  decided  ini])ressions  of  the 
power  and  qualities  for  which  he  became  so  widely 
known  and  admired.  He  was  about  four  months 
my  senior  in  agc\ 

In  stature  Mr.  Choate  was  nearly,  if  not  quite, 
six  feet  in  height,  strong  and  muscular,  without 
being  in  the  least  gross.  His  head  was  finely 
formed,  and  covered  with  a  profusion  of  very 
dark,  curly  hair.  His  complexion  was  dark,  his 
features  regular,  his  lips  thin,  and,  when  his  coun- 
tenance was  at  rest,  were  generally  closely  shut, 
giving  his  mouth  an  expression  of  contemplation 
rather  than  firmness.  His  eye  was  dark,  was 
mildly  piercing,  and,  at  times,  had  a  pensive  cast, 
which  was  in  harmony  with  his  whole  expression 
when  bv  himself.  His  movements,  without  Iteing 
awkward  or  abrupt,  indicated  nervous  energy 
rather  than  muscular  power.  When  in  company 
with  others,  his  face  assumed  as  many  shades  of 
expression  as  he  had  changing  moods  of  thought. 
From  the  quiet  rest  of  deep  contemplation  it  would 
light  up  by  a  sudden  flash  of  playful  humor,  or  an 
expression  of  intense  interest,  when  he  gave  utter- 
ance to  some  new  or  inspiring  thought.  But  al- 
though a  ready  humor,  thus  modified,  was  perhaps 


*       1^ 


Hlh 


iliikia 


wv 


314 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIJOATE. 


■Is 


If 


p 


'« 


I 


r    ■.,: 


it 


m 


one  of  the  most  cli<aracteristic  marks  of  the  ami- 
able temperament  for  which  he  was  distinguished, 
it  never  degenerated  into  boisterous  mirth  nor 
broke  out  into  laughter.  I  doubt  if  any  one  ever 
heard  him  laugh  aloud,  though  no  one  ever  had  a 
keener  sense  of  the  ridiculous,  or  loved  fun  more 
heartily. 

While  such  was  the  general  temperament  of 
the  man,  as  he  appeared  to  others  in  the  ordi- 
nary intercourse  of  society  or  business,  to  his 
more  intimate  friends,  as  often  as  leisure  or  op- 
portunity offered,  this  playful  habit  of  thought 
and  fancy  manifested  itself  in  a  great  variety  of 
forms.  When  in  such  a  mood,  it  was  delightful  to 
see  him  unbend,  and  give  conversation  free  play. 
He  would  indulge  in  such  extravagant  forms  of 
expression,  such  exaggerated  statements,  such  ab- 
surd opinions,  and  conclusions  so  utterly  at  vari- 
ance with  his  well-known  sentiments,  half  gravely 
uttered,  and  yet  understood  by  all,  that  it  was  an 
occasion  of  constant  merriment ;  in  which,  with- 
out even  descending  to  dio  .  ho  was  often 
carrying  on  gravf '  sions,  or  attacking  some 

popular  whim  or  oi\  minglii;  wit  with  logic, 
and  fun  with  grave  r  rodities  of  life.^  There 
would  be  no  end  to  the  anecdotes  illustrative  of 

1  It  Tras  thus,  perhaps  ia  more  extravagant  forms,  wiUi  Sydney- 
Smith.  J.  N. 


CHIEF  JUSTICE  SUA  W. 


315 


this  phase  of  his  mind,  if  any  one  had  talvon  the 
pain.s  to  preserve  them.  One  has  been  often  re- 
peated, of  his  opinion  of  Chief  Justice  Shaw,  for 
■whom,  by  the  way,  he  had  a  profound  veneration 
for  his  (piahties  as  a  judge,  and  between  whom 
and  Mr.  Ciioate  there  was  a  mutual  admiration 
and  respect.  No  man  had  a  kinder  nature  tlian 
the  Chief  Justice,  and  no  man  would  have  sooner 
shrunk  from  saying  or  doing  anything  which 
could  wound  the  sensibilities  of  another;  and  as 
for  conscious  partiality  in  favor  of  any  one,  be- 
cause of  his  rank  or  position  in  society,  no  man 
even  suspected  it.  But,  unfortunately,  he  had  a 
way  of  expressing  his  disapproval  of  what  seemed 
to  him  a  fallacy  in  an  argument,  or  a  questionable 
mode  of  proceeding  in  a  cause,  which  sounded 
very  like  reproof,  and  often  gave  pain  to  the 
subject  of  it,  from  the  manner  in  which  it  was 
done.  Nor  did  Mr.  Choate  escape.  On  one 
occasion,  after  listening  with  respect  to  one  of 
those  rebukes,  as  he  did  to  everything  which  fell 
from  the  Court,  Mr.  Choate  turned  to  two  or 
three  of  his  brethren  who  had  heard  it,  and 
quietly  remarked,  with  that  expression  upon  his 
countenance  which  always  told  the  mood  he  was 
in,  "  I  do  not  suppose  that  any  one  ever  thought 
the  Chief  Justice  was  much  of  a  lawyer,  but 
nobody  can  deny  that  he  is  a  man  of  pleasant 


'i  1lv 


hi  J 


316 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE. 


l 


manners."  On  one  occaiion  he  was  engaged  in  a 
very  important  case  in  a  remote  county,  when  it 
fell  to  me  to  hold  the  term  of  the  court.  He 
gave  up  two  days  to  the  preparation  before  the 
commencement  of  the  term,  but  found  one  suf- 
ficient, so  that  the  other  day  was  lost  in  waiting. 


m 


b  one  who  could  not  tolerate  an  idle  hour  this 
was  inexpressibly  irksome.  I  arrived  in  town  in 
due  time,  and  met  Mr.  Choate  at  the  door  of  the 
hotel,  and  was  greeted  with  '^  I  am  glad  you  have 
come  at  last,  for  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  just 
fifty  thousand  years ;  "  which,  considering  his  im- 
patience in  losing  time,  was  hardly  an  exagger- 
ated expression  of  his  estimate  of  it. 

In  the  composition  of  Mr.  Choate's  nature,  the 
prevailing  element  was  sweetness.  Bitterness  was 
entirely  left  out.  His  spirit,  like  the  action  of 
his  mind,  was  quick  and  easily  aroused ;  but  he 
could  not  carry  anger,  nor  keep  alive  a  feeling 
of  resentment.  He  had  no  false  pride  of  opinion, 
and  could  laugh  at  his  own  mistakes  as  readily  as 
others.  After  witnessing  in  court,  one  day.  with 
two  or  three  others,  the  queer  rulings  of  a  certain 
judge,  who  had  made  himself  somewhat  conspic- 
uous in  his  mode  of  conducting  trials,  one  of  them 
turned  to  him  and  said,  "  Let  us  see,  did  you  not 
join  in  a  petition  to  have  this  man  appointed  ?  " 
"  Headed  it,"  said  Mr.  Choate,  with  the  quietest 


iH^fll 


SOCIAL  INTERCOURSE. 


317 


t 


possible  liumorj  and  went  on  with  his  conversa- 
tion. 

In  his  family  no  one  could  be  more  delightful, 
ministering  to  the  happiness  of  the  circle  of  which 
he  was  the  special  centre,  and  in  which  his  con- 
versation was  full  of  pleasant  humor  and  profit- 
able instruction.  So,  in  his  intercourse  with  his 
friends,  though  free  from  everything  like  re- 
straint, he  never  talked  without  some  purpose  or 
aim,  or  without  saying  something  that  might  be 
remembered.  His  voice  was  pleasant  and  well 
modulated;  and,  though  clear  and  resonant,  never 
loud  or  harsli,  even  when  excited  before  a  popu- 
lar audience.  His  command  of  languagre  was  lit- 
erally  wonderful.  No  man  had  a  richer  vocabu- 
lary of  choice  and  apt  words.  lie  was  never  at 
a  loss  for  the  right  form  of  expression,  nor  did 
he  obscure  a  vigorous  thought  by  the  beautiful 
drapery  in  which  he  clothed  it. 

In  his  manner  of  addressing  an  audience,  es- 
pecially a  jury,  he  made  use  of  a  great  deal  of 
action,  but  without  rant  or  violent  gesticulation. 
II J  grew  animated  by  the  very  effort  of  speaking  ; 
every  muscle  seemed  to  bo  Ijrought  into  \)\i\y,  and 
his  whole  person  gave  signs  of  euiotion.  The 
perspiration  would  fall  in  large  drops  from  his 
hair  and  run  down  his  face ;  which,  at  times,  grew 
pale   and  haggard  while   he  poured   out,  in  one 


, 

I' ' 

r         1 

1 

■J 

1 

' 

i 

Mil 


318 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


m-'i 


|1i|:r 


unbroken  current,  language  full  of  thought,  emo- 
tion, or  rare  illustrations,  of  which  his  public  ad- 
dresses largely  partook.  But,  though  a  casual 
listener  might  be  dazzled  by  the  brilliancy  of  his 
rhetoric  and  the  charm  of  his  eloquence,  no  one 
who  followed  his  train  of  thought,  when  desiring 
to  convince  his  audience  of  some  interesting  truth, 
could  be  more  impressed  by  the  beauty  of  his 
oratory  than  by  the  clear  statement  and  logical 
arrangement  of  his  argument,  which  carried  with 
them  the  conviction  of  his  hearers.  One  pecul- 
iarity marked  his  style,  whether  oral  or  written, 
and  that  was  the  continuous  and  unbroken  train 
of  thought  upon  which  he  sometimes  entered ; 
which,  instead  of  being  exhausted  by  being  pur- 
sued to  any  given  extent,  seemed  to  gather  new 
exposition  and  illustration  as  he  proceeded,  until 
there  seemed  no  place  left  at  which  to  arrest  it. 
If  some  important  idea  or  proposition  presented 
itself  to  his  mind,  it  seemed  to  call  up  so  many 
kindred  and  associated  ideas,  and  one  thought 
came  crowding  so  closely  upon  another,  that  there 
was  left  him  no  place  for  pause  or  suspension,  and 
he  would  go  on  through  an  entire  page  without  a 
space  for  a  punctuation  mark,  beyond  an  occa- 
sional dash  to  hold  its  parts  together. 

Whenever  he  spoke,  he  played  upon  his  au- 
dience as  a  master  with  the  tones  or  harmonies  of 


BUSINESS  HABITS. 


319 


an  organ,  at  one  moment  delighting  them  with 
his  humor,  at  another  moving  them  to  indignation 
at  some  unmerited  wrong,  and  touching  at  an- 
other a  shade  of  dehcate  sensibiUty,  leading  them, 
it  might  be  by  a  train  of  profound  thought  and 
subtile  reasoning,  to  the  conclusion  which  he  was 
aiming  to  reach.  And  it  was  not  easy,  at  times, 
to  say  in  which  of  these  exhibitions  of  moral  and 
intellectual  power  he  was  most  to  be  admired. 

And  yet,  when  one  recalled  the  grave  or  even 
sad  cast  of  his  countenance  when  at  rest,  and  re- 
membered the  change  that  came  over  it  as  it 
lighted  up  almost  to  inspiration  when  he  was  deal- 
ing with  reasons  and  the  passions  of  his  fellow-men, 
in  masses,  and  saw  how  he  moulded  and  gave 
form  to  the  opinions  of  others  by  the  mere  force 
of  his  powers  of  persuasion,  he  could  not  fail  to 
perceive  that  his  true  strength  lay  in  the  region 
of  sober  dialectics  rather  than  in  that  of  brilliant 
oratory. 

In  the  management  of  his  own  affairs,  Mr. 
Choate  wa3  careless  in  charging  or  collecting 
moneys,  while  he  was  generous,  almost  to  a  fault, 
in  his  contributions  to  the  necessities  of  others. 
But  in  no  way  was  this  readiness  to  bestow  the 
fruits  of  the  labors,  by  which  he  earned  his  liveli- 
hood, more  marked  than  in  the  frequent  devo- 
tion of  his  time  to  the  preparation  or  delivery  of 


i  ■■!)!■ 


n 


It 


f 


S20 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


■    l 


!■'•: 


,]■;;' 


orations,  lectures,  and  addresses  on  occasions  of 
literar}^,  joatriotic,  political,  and  commemorative 
gatherings,  for  which  he  could  expect  no  other 
compensation  than  the  consciousness  of  its  being 
a  means  of  directing  and  controlling  the  thoughts 
and  opinions  of  others.  This  constant  strain  upon 
his  mental  and  physical  energies,  in  connection 
with  a  frequent  recurrence  of  severe  headaches, 
began,  at  last,  to  tell  upon  his  constitution  as  well 
as  upon  his  looks.  The  lines  and  furrows  of  his 
face  grew  deeper  and  more  visible ;  his  counte- 
nance began  to  bear  a  worried  and  haggard  look, 
except  when  animated  in  debate  ;  and  age,  while 
it  spared  the  lustre  of  hair,  gave  signs  of  prema- 
ture progress.  But  whatever  he  lost  of  muscular 
activity  seemed  to  be  more  than  made  up  by  an 
added  supply  of  nervous  and  intellectual  energy, 
till  both  gave  way  before  the  approach  of  the  dis- 
ease which  terminated  his  life.  His  sweetness 
and  kindness  of  manner,  however,  remained  with 
him  till  the  last. 

I  can  speak  of  his  qualities  as  a  senator  only 
from  the  published  accounts  of  the  day.  Nor 
would  I  venture  to  speak  of  his  scholarship  with 
confidence,  except  from  the  testimony  of  others. 
No  one,  however,  could  be  with  him  any  length 
of  time  without  perceiving  his  familiarity  with 
classic  authors  and  their  literature.     In  his  pub- 


NATURAL  BENT  OR  INCLINATION.  321 


lie  addresses,  and  even  in  liis  arguments  be- 
fore juries,  he  not  infrequently  resorted  to  quota- 
tions from  these  authors,  when  he  wished  to  give 
some  happy  thought  an  epigrammatic  force.  And 
those  best  capable  of  judging  were  unqualified  in 
their  high  appreciation  of  the  extent  and  accuracy 
of  his  attainments  in  classic  learning.  I  remem- 
ber his  showing  me  at  his  own  house,  with  a  kind 
of  affectionate  pride,  a  beautiful  copy  of  Cicero, 
and  remarking  with  considerable  emphasis  that  he 
never  suffered  a  day  to  pass  by  in  which  he  did 
not  read  one  or  more  pages  in  that  volume.  I 
have  no  doubt  that, if  his  memory  had  rested  upon 
his  attainments  as  a  classical  scholar,  it  would 
have  associated  his  name  with  some  of  the  first  in 
the  land ;  yet  he  did  not  limio  himself  to  the  lit- 
erature of  the  ancients,  but  was  equally  thorough 
in  that  of  his  own  language. 

But  the  sphere  in  which  Mr.  Choate  was  most 
ambitious  to  excel,  and  in  which  ho  achieved  his 
most  signal  success,  was  that  of  the  bar.  To  that 
he  gave  his  best  energies,  and  in  its  service  he 
wove  out  the  physical  powers  of  a  vigorous  con- 
stitution. He  cultivated  the  law  as  a  broad  and 
hberal  science,  while,  in  applying  it  to  the  prac- 
tical questions  cognizable  by  the  courts,  he  spared 
neither  time  nor  labor  to  make  it  serve  the  pur- 
pose of  equal  justice.    To  this  end  he  applied  great 

21 


i  ■  1 4: 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOaTE. 


quickness  of  apprehension,  patience  in  research,  a 
generous  pride  in  his  profession,  and  an  aptitude 
for  hibor  which  shrunk  from  no  degree  of  dih- 
gence  or  requisite  amount  of  exhaustion.  Nor 
were  these  qualities  displayed  occasionally  only. 
Whether  his  case  was  small  or  large,  whether  his 
cause  was  upon  the  civil  or  the  criminal  side  ol 
the  court,  whether  his  client  was  rich  or  poor,  or 
his  fee  was  a  large  or  a  small  one,  he  went  into  it 
thoroughly  prepared,  and  ready  at  all  points; 
and,  when  in,  he  gave  to  it  his  whole  energy,  and 
spared  nothing  which  could  insure  success.  Nor 
were  his  arguments  confined  to  the  details  of  the 
more  technical  points  of  his  case ;  he  made  free 
use,  at  will,  of  that  store  of  learning  and  illustra- 
tion which  his  memory  was  at  all  times  ready  to 
supply.  1  heard  him,  on  one  occasion,  address  the 
court,  when  I  presided,  upon  a  motion  to  dismiss 
an  indictment,  charging  embezzlement  upon  an 
officer  of  a  bank,  on  the  ground  that  the  statute 
prescribing  the  form  of  stating  the  charge,  and 
under  which  the  indictment  had  been  drawn,  was 
ex  2)ost  facto,  it  having  been  passed  subsequently 
to  the  alleged  act  of  embezzlement.  It  was  purely 
a  constitutional  argument,  and  the  point  lay  with- 
in a  narrow  compass.  But,  for  beauty  of  diction, 
aptness  of  illustration,  and  force  of  reasoning,  it 
was  one  of  his  best  efforts.     He   dwelt,  among 


HIS  METHODS. 


323 


other  things,  upon  the  history  of  our  Constitution, 
and  showed  how  its  provisions,  many  of  them  at 
least,  had  their  origin  in  tiie  events  of  English 
history.  He  spoke  of  the  Star  Chamber,  the  bills 
of  attainder,  the  progress  of  English  liberty  dur- 
ing the  Conunon wealth  and  at  the  Revohition, 
and  of  the  last  struggle  of  prerogative  with  the 
free  spirit  of  the  Constitution  in  the  attainder  and 
execution  of  Sir  John  Fcnwick,  and  brought  tliese 
all  to  bear  upon  the  danger,  as  a  precedent,  of 
holding  a  man  to  answer  for  a  crime  under  an  act 
of  legislation  passed  subsequently  to  the  commis- 
sion of  the  deed,  especially  where,  as  in  this  case,  a 
popular  odium  had  been  awakened  against  him  as 
a  public  officer. 

Nor  was  his  skill  in  conducting  the  trial  of  a 
cause  less  remarkable  tlian  the  ability  with  which 
he  presented  it,  in  the  end,  to  the  court  and  jury. 
In  the  cross-examination  of  witnesses,  he  seemed 
to  know  intuitively  how  far  to  pursue  it  and 
where  to  stop.  He  never  aroused  opposition  on 
the  part  of  the  witness  by  attacking  him,  but  dis- 
armed him  by  the  quiet  and  courteous  manner  in 
which  he  pursued  his  examination.  He  was  quite 
sure,  before  giving  him  up,  to  expose  the  weak 
parts  of  his  testimony,  or  the  bias,  if  any,  which 
detracted  from  the  confidence  to  be  given  it.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  never  allowed  himself  to  ap- 


Wm 


:\  i'  ^''  I 


I    fi)|:| 


!    '    I 


ti 

1 

■ii 

Hi 

MM 

324 


MEMORIES  OF  liUFUS   CHOATE. 


pear  surprlsecl  or  disconcerted  by  anything  in  the 
way  of  evidence  or  argument  which  niiglit  come 
out  in  the  course  of  a  trial,  however  damaging  it 
might  seem  to  the  case.  To  the  jury  it  seemed  to 
come  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  nothing  on  his 
part  served  to  give  it  any  special  importance. 
Anecdotes  of  this  character  were  often  told  of 
him,  —  one  of  which  I  give,  as  it  was  told  to  me, 
to  illustrate  his  coolness  and  self-possession,  as 
well  as  his  adroitness  in  warding  off  what  he 
could  not  meet.  In  giving  his  testimony,  a  wit- 
ness for  his  antagonist  let  fall,  with  no  particular 
emphasis,  a  statement  of  a  most  important  fact, 
from  which  he  saw  that  inferences  greatly  dam- 
aging to  his  client's  cause  might  be  drawn,  if 
skillfully  used.  He  suffered  the  witness  to  go 
through  his  statement ;  and  then,  as  if  he  saw  in 
it  something  of  great  value  to  himself,  requested 
him  to  repeat  it  carefully,  that  he  might  take  it 
down  correctly.  He  as  carefully  avoided  cross- 
examining  the  witness,  and  in  his  argument  made 
not  the  least  allusion  to  his  testimony.  When  the 
opposing  counsel,  in  his  close,  came  to  that  part 
of  his  case  in  his  argument,  he  was  so  impressed 
with  the  idea  that  Mr.  Choate  had  discovered  that 
there  was  something  in  that  testimony  which 
made  in  his  favor,  although  he  could  not  see  how, 
that  he  contented  himself  with  merely  remarking 


MANNER  IN  COURT. 


325 


that,  thoiigli  Mr.  Choate  had  seemed  to  think  that 
the  te.stiinony  bore  in  favor  of  his  cUent,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  it  went  to  sustain  the  opposite  side, 
and  then  lie  went  on  wdth  the  other  parts  of  his 
case. 

In  the  trial  of  his  cases,  Mr.  Choate  took  full 
notes  of  the  testimony,  to  whicli  he  often  seemed 
to  refer,  though  to  one  who  looked  on  it  was  dif- 
ficult to  see  anything  tliere  that  was  legible  or 
could  be  deciphered.  His  handwriting,  at  best, 
was  a  puzzle,  little  better  than  hieroglyphics. 
His  minutes  of  testimony  were  far  worse,  being 
made  up  of  words  and  symbols  and,  now  and  then, 
a  spiral  curve  longer  than  the  rest,  which  he 
seemed  to  be  able  to  read  and  interpret,  though 
no  one  else  would  think  of  attempting  it. 

In  his  manner  to  the  Court,  he  was  always  def- 
erential and  respectful,  even  when  the  judge  was 
his  iunior  in  years  or  his  inferior  in  learninii;  or 
ability.  Indeed,  courtesy,  a  kindness  of  manner, 
was  a  part  of  his  nature,  wliich  he  uniformly  ex- 
hibited in  his  intercourse  wdth  the  bar  as  well  as 
with  others. 

When  he  died,  therefore,  he  left  no  wounds  for 
time  to  heal  ;  no  resent mc^nts  for  injuries  un- 
atoned  for  ;  and  when,  with  what  he  might  have 
regarded  as  still  many  years  of  brilliant  success 
before  him,  he  died  at  the  age  of  fifty-nine,  every 


'   ( 


\ 


• 


326 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


one  felt  tliere  was  a  void, which  no  one  could  fill, 
within  the  circle  in  which  he  had  moved  ;  while  to 
such  as  knew  him  in  the  more  intimate  relations 
of  private  life  it  was  the  loss  of  a  companion,  a 
friend  endeared  by  the  qualities  which  men  love 
and  admire. 

I  stop  here,  not  because  I  have  exhausted  the 
subject,  but  because  I  have  found  it  is  not  within 
my  power  to  treat  it  as  it  ought  to  be.  But  you 
asked  me  "  to  recall  facts,  incidents,  and  events, 
personal,  professional,  and  domestic,"  and  I  hope 
you  will  accept  this  as  an  earnest  of  good  inten- 
tions. Yours  truly,  etc., 

EMORY  WASHBURN. 
Judge  J.  Nkilson. 


LETTER  FROM  E.   D.   SANBORN. 


Mr.  E.  D.  Saxborn,  professor  in  Dartmoiitli  Col- 
lege, sends  me  the  following  reminiscence  of  Mr, 
Choate  :  — 


'i  i 


ilfl 


M}'  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Choate  began  as 
early  as  I80I,  when  I  was  a  student  in  college. 
He  was  warmly  attached  to  Hanover,  where  the 
happiest  days  of  his  life  were  spent  in  study  and 
in  teaching.  Here,  too,  he  found  his  wife  ;  and 
the  old  home,  where  the  young  tutor  and  the 
beautiful  girl  who  won  his  heart  met  to  enjoy  the 
passing  hours  and  make  their  plans  for  coming 
years,  was  peculiarly  dear  to  him.  The  late 
Cyrus  P.  Smith,  at  the  commencement  dimier 
of  1875,  recited  a  little  incident  in  the  history 
of  Mr.  Choate's  tutorial  life.  Tlie  students  knew 
that  their  teacher  often  passed  some  of  the  small 
hours  of  the  night  in  Mr.  Olcott's  parlor.  Mr. 
Smith  and  a  few  of  his  associates  used  to  sere- 
nade the  young  couple  occasionally.  One  night 
they  took  their  stand  on  the  deck  of  the  steeple 


t 


328 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


m 

.!  ,i|-Jl 

'\hn\- 

my 

m 


M 

w 
if 


near  the  liouse,  whenc*;  the  whole  villago  could 
lioiir.  In  their  song  they  .substituted  the  iianies 
of  the  parties  for  classic  names,  and  made  the 
refrain  loud  and  long.  In  the  morning  Mr. 
Choate  sent  for  Mr.  Smith,  whose  voice  he  had 
recognized,  and  admonished  him  to  select  a  hum- 
bler stand,  and  a  more  seasonable  hour  for  his 
musical  exhibitions.      Thus  ended  the  farce. 

My  first  introduction  to  Mr.  Choate  was  in  the 
library  of  "  The  United  Fraternity."  Ilis  con- 
versation was  of  books.  He  called  my  attention 
to  some  good  authors  for  a  young  man  to  read. 
Among  others  he  took  from  its  shelf  an  old  folio, 
much  worn  and  defaced,  and  said  that  he  had 
found  great  benefit  from  the  careful  reading  of 
that  work.  It  was  Dr.  William  Chillingworth's 
work,  entitled  "  The  Religion  of  Protestants  a 
Safe  Way  to  Salvation."  Ilallam  says,  "  This 
celebrated  work,  which  gained  its  author  the  epi- 
thet of  immortal,  is  now,  I  suspect,  little  studied, 
even  by  the  clergy."  Mr.  Choate  pronounced  the 
author  the  greatest  rcasoner,  in  that  age  of  giants, 
in  logic.  He  said  he  knew  no  work  to  be  com- 
pared with  it,  except  "Edwards  on  the  Will." 
He  had  read  Chillingworth  with  great  profit,  and 
advised  all  young  men  to  study  it  who  desired  to 
become  good  logicians.  From  that  time  to  the 
day  of  his  death,  I  never  met  Mr.  Choate  without 


A   MIDNIGHT  RECREAriON. 


329 
His 


gaining  instruction    from    his   conversation 
discourse  was  always  of  lofty  themes. 

I  once  had  an  opportunity  to  spend  a  few  hours 
in  his  library  by  his  invitation.  His  books  were 
the  latest  and  best  editions  of  standard  authors.  I 
was  then  interested  in  the  classics.  That  depart- 
ment of  his  library  I  carefully  examined.  I  found 
there  the  most  recent  and  most  ai)proved  editions 
of  Greek  and  of  Latin  authois.  1  took  the  books 
from  their  shelves,  one  by  one,  to  learn,  if  pos- 
sible, what  use  the  owner  had  made  of  them.  In 
some  of  them  I  found  traces  of  his  study  through 
the  entire  work,  in  others  the  leaves  had  been 
cut,  and  marginal  notes  made  in  one  third  or 
one  half  of  the  work.  I  happened  then  to  bo 
staying  at  a  house  opposite  that  of  Mr.  Clioate. 
I  woke  about  midnight  and  saw,  across  the  street, 
Mr.  Choate  standing  at  a  high  desk  by  the  win- 
dow, evidently  employed  in  rending.  So,  after 
the  fatigues  of  the  day,  he  refreshcl  his  mind 
with  good  books  at  night. 

Once  I  was  invited  to  meet  his  pastor,  Rev.  Dr. 
Adams,  and  a  few  other  friends,  at  dinner.  It  was 
at  the  time  when  Dr.  Adams  was  so  severely  cen- 
sured for  his  book  called  "  The  Southside  View," 
in  which  he  ventured  to  recite  his  personal  recol- 
lections of  some  good  men  at  the  South.  The 
friends  of  Dr.  Adams  had  held  a  public  meeting 


;|^ 


^f 


f 


f 


r"ii  r 


I 


!  'if*!' 


jji" 


111'    *  ■ 


m 


IK 

}  IS;  ' 


rH 


I   3 
I'!.,':! 

11 

ml 


'!! 


I', 


It 


■f 


330 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


to  express  their  confidence  and  affection  for  the 
author  of  that  famous  book.  Mr.  Choate  made  a 
speech,  commending  his  pastor  for  preaching  the 
gospel  instead  of  poUtics.  and  remarked  that,  af- 
ter spending  six  days  in  controversy  at  the  bar 
and  on  the  phitform,  he  was  rejoiced  to  have  his 
attention  called  to  reliu;ion  on  the  seventh.  This 
speech  gave  birth  to  a  new  party  cry,  "  The  Gospel 
according  to  Choate,"  which  was  as  widely  printed 
and  commented  upon  as  his  famous  phrase,  "  glit- 
tering generalities,"  applied  to  the  Declaration  of 
Independence.  At  the  dinner-table,  Mr.  Choate, 
in  a  quiet,  confiding,  deferential  tone,  called  out 
his  guests  on  their  own  specialties.  His  twinkling 
eye,  pleasant  smile,  and  genial  comments  made 
the  occasion  one  long  to  be  remembered. 

At  the  luneral  of  Daniel  Webster,  I  walked 
with  Mr.  Choate  to  the  cemetery.  He  made 
many  considerate  and  thoughtful  remarks  on  Mr. 
"Webster's  life.  He  spoke  of  him  with  filial  sad- 
ness and  reverence.  Mr.  Webster  was  "  his  guide, 
counselor,  and  friend."  I  felt  almost  abashed  at 
his  appeals  to  me  for  my  opinions,  as  though  T 
could  possibly  know  anything  of  the  great  orator 
which  he  did  not  know  ;  but  that  was  his  mental 
habit.  He  made  those  with  whom  he  conversed 
feel  that  he  regarded  them  as  equals,  to  whom 
he  could  often  show  deference. 


■|     i  i: 


■^^ 


A  MOST  APPRECIATIVE   TRIBUTE. 


331 


ir. 

I- 

e, 
at 

T 
or 

al 
ed 


After  miiltitiiclos  of  orators  had  euloii  m1  the 
deceased  statesman,  Mr.  Choate  came  fj  his  old 
haunts  in  Hanover,  and  in  the  old  church  uttered 
his  memorable  eiilo,2:y,  —  perhaps  the  most  brill- 
iant and  appreciative  tribute  to  departed  worth 
ever  made  by  mortal  man.  If  any  one  can 
name  a  greater,  let  him  ''  speak,  for  him  have 
I  olfended." 

Mr.  Choate  prepared  a  speech  for  the  Webster 
dinner  at  Boston,  a  short  time  after  Mr.  Weljster's 
death,  lie  was  too  ill  to  deliver  it;  it  was  never 
published.  Fletcher  Webster  was  permitted  to 
read  it.  One  paragraph  he  copied,  and  sent  to 
me.  It  was  as  follows  :  ''  Sometimes  Mr.  Webster 
incurred  the  lot  of  all  the  great,  and  was  traduced 
and  misrepresented.  Sometimes  he  was  pursued, 
as  all  central  figures  in  great  triumphal  proces- 
sions are  pursued,  as  all  glory  is  pursued,  by  cal- 
umny ;  as  Demosthenes,  the  patriotic  statesman  ; 
as  Cicero,  the  father  of  his  country ;  as  Grotius, 
the  creator  of  public  law ;  as  Somers  and  Sidney, 
as  Burke,  as  Grattan,  as  Hamilton,  were  traduced. 
Even  when  he  was  recently  dead,  tl.  *^ears  and 
jorayers  of  the  whole  country  did  not  completely 
siknee  one  rohed  and  reverend  backbiter."  The 
shiide  of  Theodore  Parker,  it  is  hoped,  will  receive 
w"th  such  candor  as  marked  the  living  man,  this 
honest  tribute  to  his  ministerial  labors. 


V\ 


'M^:^ 


'f 


332 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


•If!' 


,  iifi^j 


'    I 


^;J 


Mr.  Abbott  Lawrence  once  said  to  me,  at  his 
house,  that,  when  he  was  Minister  at  the  Court  of 
St.  James,  he  frequently  met  eminent  lawyers 
who  were  very  desirous  of  learning  everything 
they  could  about  Mr.  Webster  and  Mr.  Choate, 
especially  their  personal  appearance,  habits,  and 
opinions.  They  questioned  him  respecting  their 
interpretations  of  great  questions  of  law.  Mr. 
Lawrence  ventured  to  propose  several  of  their 
questions  to  Mr.  Choate,  and  his  replies  were  re- 
ceived with  great  respect  by  En<rlisb  lawyers. 

Mr.  Clioate  was  religiously  e  Ui>Mtted,  and  the 
instructions  of  his  parents  modified  and  controlled 
his  whole  life.  Mr.  James  W.  Paige,  of  Boston, 
informed  me  that  Mr.  Webster  and  Mr.  Choate 
often  met  at  his  house,  where  they  sometimes 
discoursed  of  "  high  and  holy  themes."  One 
evening  allusion  was  made  by  one  of  them  to 
the  custom  of  committing  to  memory  devotional 
poetry  in  childhood.  Mr.  Webster  challenged 
Mr.  Choate  to  recite  Watts's  psalms  and  hymns 
from  meniorv,  to  ascertain  which  could  hold  out 
longest.  They  continued  the  exercise  for  a  full 
hour,  till  the  ladies  cried  *' Hold  !  enough!"  be- 
cause they  desired  to  hear  these  gentlemen  talk 
ou  ether  subjects. 

Mr.  Choate  was  once  walking,  on  Commence- 
ment Day,  in  Hanover,  when  a  lady  attempted  to 


INCIDENTS. 


333 


■'    ■  !• 


pass  him  in  the  crowd,  wearing  one  of  those  ele- 
gant shawls  whose  knotted  fringe  always  catches 
the  button  of  the  pew  door  of  country  churches, 
when  suddenly  he  found  himself  caught  by  the 
button  of  his  coat.  He  turned  and  said,  "'^  Madam, 
I  beg  pardon ;  I  should  be  dehghted  to  go  with 
you,  but  I  have  an  engagement  in  the  opposite 
direction."  I  remember  an  amusing  incident  re- 
cited to  me  by  one  of  the  students,  showing  how 
much  he  was  absorbed  in  a  case  he  was  studying, 
"  totus  in  Hits."  A  client  was  consulting  him 
whose  name  was  Stoughton.  At  that  time  a  pop- 
ular nostrum,  called  "  Stoughton's  Bitters,"  was 
everywdiere  advertised.  Mr.  Choate  had  seen  the 
advertisements,.  "Mid,  curing  all  the  interview,  he 
addressed  his  client  as  "  Mr.  Bitters." 

Yours  truly, 

E.  D.  SANDORN. 


1 


LETTER    FROM   EDWARD   B.   GILLETT. 


,1 


A  DiSTiXGUisiiED  member  of  the  Massacluisetts 
bar,  residing  at  Westtield,  who  was  much  at  the 
bar  with  Mr.  Choate,  writes  me  :  — 


J  <  I 


My  dear  Sir,  —  I  take  pleasure  in  trying  to 
comply  with  your  request  to  furnish  some  per- 
sonal reminiscences  of  Mr.  Choate.  Perhaps,  by 
way  of  illustrative  notes  to  your  articles,  you  may 
utilize  some  of  them. 

I  called  upon  Mr.  Choate  when  he  was  confined 
to  his  ]  10 use  by  a  lame  knee.  He  was  always  in 
his  library,  surrounded  by  his  five  or  six  thousand 
silent  friends,  covering  the  walls  of  the  second 
story  of  liis  dwelling  on  Franklin  Street. 

On  one  occasion  I  found  him  before  his  table 
turning  the  leaves  of  Macaulay's  History.  1  in- 
quired if  he  was  revising  the  judgments  recently 
expressed  in  his  lecture  upon  that  subject.  He 
replied.  No.  that  he  was  readinir  Cowley's  poems, 
which  always  greatly  interested  him  ;  tb  t  he  had 
just  discovered  in  the  volume  an  expression  simi- 


m 


•"^w 


WP 


COWLEY  AND  MILTON. 


335 


jnd 


iii- 
uly 
lie 

■liul 
mi- 


lar  to  that  found  in  the  first  hook  of  "  Paradise 
Lost,"  ''  The  height  of  tliis  great  argument," 
which  he  thought  a  fine  and  extraordinary  phrase. 
He  had  thereupon  hegged  liis  wife,  the  irracious 
purveyor  to  his  inlirniities,  to  hand  down  Macau- 
hiy  to  him  that  he  might  detect  whether  MiUon 
had  "  hooked  "  from  Cowley,  or  Cowley  from  Mil- 
ton. "  But,"  said  he,  "  Cowley  has  got  him.  It 
is,  however,  only  the  equitable  thing.  Milton  had 
a  right  to  forage  the  whole  intellectual  world  in 
the  way  of  reprisal,  for  his  disjecta  membra  are 
scattered  thick  through  all  literature." 

I  have  in  my  possession  his  copy  of  Cowdey's 
works.  The  pencil  marks  along  the  margins  of 
pages  suggest  the  remark  he  once  made  to  me, 
that  he  "  often  found  a  single  '  winged  word  '  as 
suggestive  as  the  most  germinant  thoutrht."  This 
may  explaiu  what  is  said  to  have  been  his  haljit  of 
frequent  reading  and  study  of  the  dictionary  ''  by 
the  page." 

Upon  a  mantel  in  his  li])rary,  as  1  now  some- 
what indistiuctly  remember,  were  placed,  at  one 
end,  a  bronze  1)ust  or  statuette  of  Demosthenes ; 
at  the  other  end,  a  similar  one  of  Cicero.  Over 
Demosthenes  was  suspended  a  small  engraving  of 
Daniel  Webster :  over  Cicero  an  engraving  of  Ed- 
ward  Everett.  Upon  my  speak iug  of  ihe  appro- 
priateness of  the  juxtapositions,  he  drew  some  par- 


M 


330 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


m  • 


allels  and  contrasts  between  the  groat  orators,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  said  more  m'.viiorable  things,  by 
way  of  characterization,  tlian  I  have  over  heard 
compacted  into  the  same  number  of  sentences.  I 
remember  that  he  pronounced  Cicero  to  be  "  the 
greatest  master  of  speech  who  had  ever  lived.'* 

I  was  associated  with  Mr.  Clioate  in  the  trial  of 
a  railroad  case  before  a  committee  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts Legislature.  lie  was  then  preparing  an 
address  upon  Macaulay's  "  History  of  England," 
to  be  delivered  before  the  Mercantile  Library  As- 
sociation in  Boston.  On  the  morning  of  the  day 
he  was  to  give  his  address,  he  said  that  it  was  not 
nearly  written.  I  suggested  that  he  would  be 
compelled  to  extemporize  a  portion  of  it.  He  re- 
plied that  he  would  "cut  out"  from  the  hearing 
and  go  into  an  adjoining  lobby  and  write  while 
the  witnesses  were  being  examined  in  chief,  if  I 
would  call  him  so  that  he  could  be  present  at  the 
cross-examination.  This  arrangement  was  carried 
out,  and  it  was  wonderful  to  note  how  intuitively 
and  instantly  he  gathered  the  scope  of  the  direct 
testimony  given  in  his  absence.  On  one  occasion, 
I  followed  him  almost  instantly  from  the  commit- 
tee room  to  the  lobby,  and  found  him  already 
writing  at  the  top  of  his  speed.  He  said  that  his 
only  way  of  making  preparation  for  such  occasions 
was  to  postpone  it  until  the  last  possible  moment, 


■H: 


ii 


■    5 


WOMEN  AS   WITNESSES. 


337 


and  then  work  totis  vir'thus  ;  that  he  had  been  al- 
ready writing  since  three  and  a  half  o'clock  that 


morning. 


Mr.  Choate,  on  one  occasion,  came  into  tho  court- 
room of  the  District  Court  in  Boston,  while  I  was 
trying  a  case  before  a  jury.  lie  was  accompanied 
by  Mr.  B.  R.  Curtis,  their  object  being  to  discuss 
before  Judge  Spraguo,  then  presiding,  some  inter- 
locutory motion  during  the  recess.  Mr.  Choate 
drew  his  chair  to  my  side,  and  placed  his  hand  on 
my  shoulder  in  that  magnetic  way  of  friendly 
confidence  which  did  so  much  to  endear  him  to 
younger  members  of  the  profession.  He  then  in- 
quired with  a  sort  of  comical  eagerness,  "  Pray  tell 
me  whose  witnesses  are  all  these  women  ?  "  1  an- 
swered, "  Part  are  mine  and  part  are  the  plain- 
tiff's." Then  he  said,  "  Pray  tell  me  which  side 
has  the  majority  ?  "  I  said  that  I  had.  He  replied, 
"  I  will  give  you  my  word  the  case  is  yours.  But 
now,"  said  he  with  humorous  solonmity,  ''  let  me 
give  you  my  dying  advice,  —  never  cross-examine 
a  woman.  It  is  of  no  use.  They  cannot  disinte- 
grate the  story  the^'  have  once  told ;  they  cannot 
eliminate  the  part  that  is  for  you  from  that  which 
is  against  you.  They  can  neither  combine  nor 
shade  nor  qualify.  They  go  for  the  whole  thing, 
and  the  moment  you  begin  to  cross-examine  one 
of  them,  instead  of  being  bitten  by  a  single  rattle- 

22 


■1 


338 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIWATE. 


in 


snake,  you  are  bitten  by  a  whole  barrel  full.  I 
never,  excepting  in  a  case  absolutely  desperate, 
dare  to  cross-examine  a  woman." 

Ilis  library  was  especially  rich  in  ancient  clas- 
sics. He  pointed  out  that  department  to  me  with 
evident  satisfaction  ;  one  shelf  was  filled  by  dif- 
ferent editions  of  the  Greek  Testament,  some  in 
elegant  modern  binding,  and  others  in  "  old  vel- 
lum." I  alluded  to  this.  He  then  said,  "  You  re- 
call a  visit  I  once  received  in  my  room  from  Mr. 
Webster,  when  I  was  Senator  at  Washington,  en- 
deavoring to  impose  upon  the  people  of  this  Com- 
monwealth the  delusion  that  I  was  an  eminent 
statesman.  I  saw  Mr.  Webster's  wonderful  black 
eyes  peering  over  my  books,  as  if  in  search,  and 
asked  him  what  he  would  please  to  have.  He 
turned  to  me  with  one  of  his  smiles,  such  as  never 
transfigured  the  face  of  any  other  man  or  of  any 
woman,  and  said,  "I  observe,  brother  Choate, 
that  you  are  true  to  your  instincts  in  Washington, 
as  at  home,  —  seven  editions  of  the  Greek  Testa- 
ment, but  not  a  copy  of  the  Constitution." 

You  cannot,  my  dear  sir,  fail  to  see  that  I 
have  written  very  hurriedly;  but,  as  you  have 
the  choice  both  of  excision  and  exclusion,  I  do 
not  hesitate  to  send  you  my  meagre  materials. 
I  beg  leave  to  thank  you  that  you  are  willing 
to  freshen  our  memory  of  that  wonderful  man. 


^m 


PROFITABLE  COMPANY. 


339 


whose  profound  and  precise  learning  as  a  lawyer 
was  hardly  surpassed  by  his  marvelous  genius  for 
advocacy,  but  who  was  nowhere  more  delightful 
or  amusing  than  in  private  conversation.  Carlyle 
is  right  when  he  tells  us  that  '•  Great  men,  taken 
in  any  way,  are  profitable  company." 

With  very  great  respect, 

EDWARD  13,  GILLETT. 
To  Judge  Neilson. 


T  f 


LETTER  FROM  HON.  NATHAN   CROSBY. 


fi  I 


The  Hon.  Nathan  Crosby,  one  of  Mr.  Choate's 
early  friends,  who  has  been  for  more  than  thirty 
years  in  judicial  service,  writes  the  following  let- 
ter. The  reader  will  think  it  natural,  as  well  as 
fortunate,  that  old  college  friends,  in  writing 
about  Mr.  Clioate,  should  recur  to  those  early 
days. 

A  short  time  before  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Jo- 
seph Tracy,  D.  D.,  he  had  written  an  article  on 
the  religious  character  of  Mr.  Choate,  intended 
for  publication  in  some  religious  magazine.  But 
the  article  was  not  given  to  the  public.  Judge 
Crosby  has  been  kind  enough  to  obtain  it  from 
the  family  or  representatives  of  the  writer  and 
send  it  to  me. 

After  statino;  the  fact  that  much  had  been  writ- 
ten  about  Mr.  Choate,  and  suggesting  that  much 
yet  remained  to  be  written.  Dr.  Tracy  asks,  "  But 
what  have  the  orthodox  reviewers  to  do  with 
Rufus  Choate  ?  "  and  answers,  ''  Much,  on  many 
accounts.     In  all  the  religious  or  ecclesiastical  re- 


r    'tf 


^F^PIlyp 


IN  COLLEGE    WITH  CIIOATE. 


341 


lations  which  h«  .sustained,  ho  was  one  of  us.  lie 
was  educated  from  his  earliest  infancy  in  our 
faith.  He  studied  it,  understood  it,  was  convinced 
of  its  truth,  avowed  and  defended  it  on  what  lie 
deemed  proper  occasions,  public  or  private,  to  the 
end  of  his  life." 

lie  proceeds  to  illustrate  that  view  by  refer- 
ences to  Mr.  Choate's  example,  opinions,  and  ad- 
dresses, making  special  use  of  his  remarks  on  the 
occasion  of  the  twenty-fifth  amiiversary  of  Dr. 
Adams's  pastorate  of  the  Essex  Street  Church,  in 
which  —  the  last  public  address  ever  made  by  Mr. 
Choato  —  he  avowed  his  faith  in  the  doctrines 
there  taught. 


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Mr  DEAR  Judge,  —  Mr.  Choate  was  one  year 
before  me  in  college.  AVhen  I  entered,  he  had 
already  acquired  the  reputation  of  leader  of  his 
class.  My  earliest  personal  knowledge  of  him  was 
obtained  through  two  of  his  rivaling  classmates, 
Ileydock  and  Tracy,  who  had  been  with  me  in 
Salisbury  Academy.  Mr.  Choate  came  to  Han- 
over at  an  opportune  period,  as,  in  fact,  we  all 
did.  The  college  difliculties  had  just  divided  the 
old  residents  into  two  partisan,  though  quite  un- 
equal, bodies,  both  of  which  changed  the  former 
limited  courtesies  extended  to  students  into  open 
blandishments   and   friendly  alliances.     President 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

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(716)  873-4503 


342 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


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Brown  waa  young  and  enthusiastic,  and  desirous 
not  only  that  the  students  should  acquit  them- 
selves well  as  scholars,  but  that  they  should  be 
kindly  received  and  hould  make  friends  for  them- 
selves and  the  institution  in  the  village,  and  so 
carry  with  them  to  their  homes  good  accounts  o^ 
the  college  and  the  people.  Mr.  Choate  found 
an  old  and  valuable  friend  in  Dr.  Mussey,  the 
head  of  the  medical  school.  Dr.  Mussey  had 
practiced  in  Essex  during  the  childhood  of  Mr. 
Choate,  and  had  boarded  in  his  father's  family. 
Upon  being  appointed  to  a  professorship,  he  had 
given  up  his  practice  to  Dr.  Sewall,  who  after- 
ward married  Mr.  Choate's  sister,  and  first  taught 
Latin  to  Rufus. 

He  was  fortunate,  therefore,  in  his  surround- 
ings at  Hanover,  but  more  fortunate  in  his  eager- 
ness to  learn  and  his  aptitude  for  study.  His 
ambition,  which  we  saw  in  his  acts  and  habits,  ap- 
pears now,  by  confession,  as  it  were,  in  the  letters 
of  his  college  life,  recently  furnished  by  your  cor- 
respondent, the  Rev.  Dr.  Putnam.  The  amenities 
of  the  people  and  the  absence  of  rowdyism  on  the 
part  of  the  students  were  alike  notable  during 
President  Brown's  administration ;  and  many  who 
were  there  ai  this  period,  besides  Mr.  Choate,  owe 
much  to  the  graceful  influences  of  the  cultured 
ladies  of  their  early  acquaintance. 


I  ''It 


HIS  HABITS. 


343 


Mr.  Choate  was  sociable  as  well  as  studious,  but 
did  not  care  for  play,  lie  found  exercise  in  walks 
over  the  hills  around  the  college,  and  up  and 
down  his  room  while  pursuing  his  studies.  His 
most  frequent  out-door  companion  was  his  class- 
mate Tenney,  who  furnished  a  ready  laugh  to 
Choate's  equally  ready  wit.  Tenney  was  a  jolly, 
light-hearted  youth,  well  suited  to  clear  the  cob- 
webs from  an  overworked  brain,  and  as  such, 
doubtless,  he  ministered,  perhaps  unconsciously, 
but  none  the  less  beneficially,  to  his  friend. 
Choate's  room  was  of  ready  access  to  his  mates, 
and  was  a  sort  of  centre  of  mirth  and  wit;  but 
when  sport  was  over  he  turned  to  his  studies 
with  avidity.  He  possessed  a  wonderful  power  of 
concentration,  and  studied  with  great  intensity. 
I  roomed  near  him  for  a  year,  and  could  appreci- 
ate this  somewhat,  as  he  studied  very  much  aloud, 
making  his  voice  and  ear  and  his  gestures,  too, 
probably  contribute  each  its  power  of  impression 
upon  the  memory.  He  dropped  into  study  read- 
ily as  a  habit,  and  thus,  at  brief  intervals,  doubt- 
less, through  life,  added  much  to  his  stores  of 
knowledge.  We  boarded  together  for  a  while  at 
Professor  Adams's ;  and  when  in  the  dining-room, 
before  the  bell  called  us  to  take  our  seats  at  the 
table,  Mr.  Choate  would  stand  at  the  sideboard, 
where  lay  a  large  reference  Bible,  and  turn  over 


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344 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


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the  leaves  from  place  to  place,  as  if  tracing  out 
some  chain  of  theological  inquiry. 

Mr.  Choate  by  ardent,  if  frequently  interrupted, 
labor  became  the  ideal  scholar  and  the  pride  of 
the  college.  No  one  had  ever  more  completely 
won  the  admiration  of  the  faculty,  of  his  fellow- 
students,  and  of  the  people  of  Hanover.  Not  a 
lisp  of  irregularity,  of  incivility,  or  neglect  was 
heard  against  him  from  any  quarter.  But  toward 
the  close  of  his  college  life  he  became  an  invalid, 
was  emaciated,  walked  feebly,  his  place  in  the 
recitation-room  was  often  vacant,  his  condition  a 
source  of  anxiety  and  alarm.  Dr.  Mussey  took 
him  to  his  house,  and  watched  over  him  by  day 
and  by  night.  At  length  the  appointments  for 
Commencement  were  made,  and  Mr.  Choate  was 
set  down  for  the  valedictory.  Great  fears  were 
entertained  that  he  might  be  unable  to  participate 
in  the  exercises.  As  the  day  drew  near,  the  lead- 
ing topic  of  inquiry  and  discussion  was  his  condi- 
tion, —  the  last  report  from  his  chamber  the  most 
important  news ;  —  and  old  graduates,  as  they 
arrived  from  day  to  day  to  participate  in  the 
proceedings,  came  to  share  in  the  anxiety,  and 
feared  that  they  might  not  hear  him  whom  they 
perceived  to  be  so  universally  admired  and  be- 
loved. The  day  came  at  length,  and  with  it  un- 
certain reports  intensifying  the  anxiety,  and  cast- 


ili 


niS  VALEDICTORY. 


345 


ing  doubt  not  only  on  the  probability  of  his  ap- 
pearance on  the  platform,  but  as  to  the  duration 
of  hi.s  life.  The  procession  was  formed  without 
him,  and  moved  to  the  church,  amid  general 
gloom,  for  the  public  exercises.  Tlie  place  was 
crowded  j  the  graduating  class  responded  to  the 
orders  of  the  day  down  to  the  valedictory.  Then 
a  few  moments  of  hushed  suspense,  and  Mr. 
Choate  was  called.  He  advanced  slowly  and  fee- 
bly, as  if  struggling  to  live  and  to  perform  this  as 
a  last  scholarly  duty.  Tall  and  emaciated,  closely 
wrapped  in  his  black  gown,  with  his  black,  curly 
hair  overshadowing  his  sallow  features,  he  trem- 
blingly saluted  the  trustees  and  officers  of  the  col- 
lege, and  proceeded  in  tremulous  and  subdued 
tones  with  his  address,  which  was  full  of  beautiful 
thoughts,  couched  in  chaste  and  elegant  language. 
When  he  came  to  say  the  words  of  parting  to  his 
classmates,  his  heart  poured  forth  treasures  of 
affectionate  remembrance,  closing  with  swelling 
fervor  and  inimitable  power  as  he  exhorted  them 
not  to  slacken  or  misapply  tlicir  intellectual  ener- 
gies and  tastes,  but  to  press  on  to  the  highest 
attainments  in  the  domain  of  learn. ..g.  "  The 
world  from  this  day  and  place  opens  wide  before 
you.  You  are  here  and  now  to  drop  the  power 
and  aid  of  the  association  and  emulation  of  our 
happy  days,  and  strike,  single-handed  and  alone, 


i, 


346 


MEMORIES  OF  JiUFUS   C  HO  ATE. 


into  the  manly  struggles  of  lifo.  You  may  sow 
and  reap  in  whatever  field  or  realm  you  choose, 
and  gather  the  glorious  rewards  of  intellectual 
culture  of  pure  minds  and  diligent  hands.  Go,  go 
forward,  my  classmates,  with  all  your  honors  and 
all  your  hopes.  You  will  leave  me  behind,  lin- 
gering or  cut  short  in  my  way ;  but  I  shall  carry 
to  my  grave,  however,  wherever,  whenever  I  shall 
be  called  hence,  the  delightful  remembrance  of 
our  joys  and  of  our  love."  I  can  only  give  a  faint 
and  imperfect  impression  of  his  loving  words ;  but 
my  memory  of  the  scene  is  fresh  and  vivid.  The 
great  congregation,  from  admiration,  excitement, 
and  grief,  found  relief  in  a  flood  of  tears. 

Mr.  Choate  remained  in  Hanover  one  year  as 
tutor,  and  was  the  central  figure  of  a  set  of  lin- 
guists then  connected  with  the  college.  James 
Marsh  and  George  Bush,  distinguished  scholars, 
just  before  him ;  George  P.  Marsh  and  Folsom,  of 
my  class ;  and  Washington  Choate,  brother  of  Ru- 
fus,  Perley,  and  Williston,  two  classes  next  after 
mine,  gave  an  impulse  to  the  study  and  love  of 
classical  literature  unknown  before  or  since  in 
that  college.  Friendly  emulation  and  student 
pride  led  to  the  daily  canvassing  of  books  pub- 
lished, authors  read,  and  works  studied.  Folsom, 
W.  Choate,  and  Williston  died  early;  the  other 
scholars  named  became  eminent  men.    Washing- 


COMPETITION  IN  SCHOLARSHIP. 


347 


ton  Choate  was  regarded  as  equal  to  his  brother 
in  scholarship,  and  was  eminent  for  his  piety.  I 
allude  to  this  era  of  classical  study  as  an  exhibi- 
tion of  Mr.  Choate's  literary  influence 

Mr.  Choate  had  great  respect  and  love  for  his 
Alma  Mater,  and  contributed  from  his  early  pro- 
fessional income  toward  her  support,  as  well  as 
to  influence  her  advancing  curriculum ;  but  was 
greatly  disquieted,  and  even  vexed,  when  declared 
rank  in  scholarship  was  abolished.  He  believed 
in  laudable  ambition  and  honorable  competition. 
The  old  Puritan  school-house  system  of  rising  from 
the  foot  to  the  head  of  the  class  stirred  the  little 
scholar  with  an  ambition  which  grew  with  his 
years,  and  which  he  thought  should  not  be  ignored 
or  repudiated  in  higher  fields  of  study.  He  held 
that  a  great  principle  of  human  action  was  in- 
vaded by  neglecting  to  rank  scholarship  ;  that  life 
is  largely  made  up  of  struggles  for  superiority  in 
mental  and  physical  efforts ;  that  its  rewards  are 
won  by  merit ;  that  the  diligent,  exact  scholar 
should  receive  his  merited  honors ;  and  that  the 
idle  or  stupid  should  not  be  protected  from  the 
exposure  of  misspent  time  and  opportunity.  His 
own  life  was  spent  in  incessant,  honorable  compe- 
tition and  legitimate  reward. 

For  several  years  from  1 82G  I  practiced  law  in 
Essex  County  at  the  same  courts  with  Mr.  Choate ; 


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*   '■-  \ 


348 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE. 


I 


and  from  1838  for  a  few  years  I  lived  in  Boston, 
kept  up  my  acquaintance  with  him,  and  knew 
quite  well  his  habits.  He  died  daily,  retiring  to 
bed  exhausted,  under  great  nervous  prostration, 
with  headache.  Yet  he  would  rise  early,  often 
long  before  daylight,  and  take  a  literary  breakfast 
before  his  family  or  business  claimed  his  atten- 
tion. His  clients,  the  courts,  and  classics  com- 
pelled long  days  and  short  nights.  I  called  upon 
him  once  in  the  afternoon,  and  asked  him  how 
early  the  next  morning  I  could  confer  with  him 
upon  a  matter  I  wished  to  investigate  during  the 
evening.  *'  As  early  as  you  please,  sir ;  I  shall 
be  up."  "  Do  you  mean  before  breakfast,  Mr. 
Choate  ?  "  "  Before  light  if  you  wish."  1  called 
at  the  earliest  dawn,  and  found  him  at  his  stand- 
ing table,  with  a  shade  over  his  eyes,  under  a  brill- 
iant light,  pressing  forward  some  treatise  upon 
Greek  literature,  which  he  said  he  hoped  to  live 
long  enough  to  give  to  the  public.  The  night 
had  restored  his  wearied  powers ;  he  was  elastic, 
as  cheery  and  brilliant  as  the  stars  I  had  left 
shining  above  us. 

Seeing  and  hearing  Mr.  Choate  in  the  trial  of 
causes  was  a  perpetual  surprise  and  pleasure.  It 
seemed  to  make  little  difference  with  him  whether 
his  cause  was  of  great  or  small  importance;  he 
tried  to  win  it  if  possible,  and  ceased  not  to  con- 


DECLINES  JUDICIAL  HONORS. 


349 


test  it  until  every  consideration  favorable  to  his 
own  side  and  every  one  inimical  to  his  adversary 
had  been  presented. 

It  has  already  been  mentioned  that  Mr.  Choate 
was  offered  a  seat  upon  the  bench  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Massachusetts,  but  declined.  It  may  be 
proper  for  me  to  add  that  in  view  of  his  health, 
and  the  arduous  nature  of  his  professional  exer- 
tions, I  pressed  him  to  seek  the  higher  honor  of 
a  seat  upon  the  bench  of  the  United  States  Su- 
preme Court,  and  so  escape  the  waste  of  his  pow- 
ers in  the  excitements  of  the  advocate,  and  attain 
the  more  quiet  and  dignified  life  of  the  bench. 
Judge  Woodbury's  seat  was  at  the  time  vacant, 
and  I  believed  he  could  secure  the  appointment. 
He  was  then  fifty  years  of  age,  and  in  the  highest 
sense  eligible.  "  But,"  said  he,  "  I  am  too  poor. 
I  must  remain  as  I  am,  live  or  die.  I  know  my 
power  and  reputation  in  my  profession,  and  I  love 
it,  but  I  do  not  know  what  the  change  would 
bring  upon  me,  or  whether  I  should  like  it.  I 
cannot  leave  my  profession."  He  survived  only 
eight  years. 

He  spent  his  money  well  for  his  family  and  his 
library,  gave  freely  to  the  necessitous,  and  gave 
liberally  of  his  well-earned  fees  when  full  pay- 
ment might  have  embarrassed  his  client.  On  one 
occasion,  I  was  in  his  office  when  a  client  asked  for 


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350 


MEMOniES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


li 


his  bill  for  a  written  opinion  upon  a  question  of 
importance.  Said  Mr.  Choate,  "  Hand  nie  one 
hundred  dollars,  and  I  will  give  you  a  receipt  in 
full ;  if  you  go  to  my  partner  in  the  other  room, 
who  keeps  the  books,  he  will  make  you  pay  one 
hundred  and  fifty,  sure." 

Mr.  Choate,  like  Webster  and  Everett,  was  an 
old  Whig  politically,  and  "  to  the  manner  born  ;  " 
but  toward  the  close  of  his  life  party  lines  under- 
went rapid  changes,  and  men  were  very  uncere- 
moniously laid  upon  the  shelf  who  were  not 
thought  to  keep  up  with  the  "  march  of  improve- 
ment." Mr.  Webster  lost  the  nomination  for  the 
presidency,  and  soon  after  died  at  Marshfield; 
and,  although  the  nation  honored  his  obsequies 
with  every  token  of  mourning,  Mr.  Choate  could 
not  smother  his  indignation  toward  the  rising  ele- 
ments of  power.  The  great  expounder  and  states- 
man had  been  rejected  through  unworthy  combi- 
nations. His  chief,  worthy  of  all  homage  and 
confidence,  leader  of  the  Whig  party,  and  the 
supporter  of  its  glory  for  twenty  years,  had  been 
slaughtered  in  the  house  of  his  friends. 

Mr.  Choate's  horror  of  new  combinations  and 
platforms  drove  him  to  Buchanan.  "  I  can  go  no- 
where else,"  said  he  to  me,  when  I  had  a  long  in- 
terview with  him  in  regard  to  his  purpose.  "  But, 
Mr.  Choate,  what  becomes  of  your  long  cherished 


?r'l 


POLITICAL  PRINCIPLES. 


351 


Whig  principles?"  "Whig  principles!  I  go  to 
the  Democrats  to  find  them.  Tiiey  have  assumed 
our  principles,  one  after  another,  till  there  is  little 
difference  between  us."  Here  he  traced  them  one 
after  another  as  they  had  found  adoption.  ''  And 
what  becomes  of  your  Whig  anti-slavery  opin- 
ions?" "  1  have  settled  that  matter,"  said  he,  "  I 
am  bound  to  seek  the  greatest  amount  of  moral 
good  for  the  human  race.  I  am  to  take  things  as 
I  find  them,  and  work  according  to  my  best  judg- 
ment for  the  greatest  good  of  the  greatest  num- 
ber, and  I  do  not  believe  it  is  the  greatest  good 
to  the  slave  or  the  free  that  four  million  of  slaves 
should  be  turned  loose  in  all  their  ignorance,  pov- 
erty, and  degradation,  to  trust  to  luck  for  a  home 
and  a  living."  He  amplified  somewhat  this  state- 
ment, but  the  above  represents  fairly  the  conclu- 
sions of  his  argument.  Mr.  Choate's  problem, 
how  to  accomplish  the  greatest  good  for  the  great- 
est number,  has  been  worked  out  on  a  different 
plan  from  that  which  he  wished  to  see  adopted. 
The  war,  the  death  lists,  pollution  of  morals,  de- 
struction of  prosperity,  national  debt,  present  con- 
dition and  future  destiny  of  the  colored  race,  and 
sectional  discords  are  present  elements  in  the 
scales  testing  Mr.  Choate's  sagacity.  Happy  for 
us  if  we  can  find  advantages  to  counterbalance 
them.  Yours  truly, 

NATHAN  CROSBY. 


1  Hf 


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LETTER  FROM   HON.  HENRY  K.   OLIVER. 


The  Hon.  Henry  K.  Oliver,  a  student  at  Dart- 
mouth College  when  young  Choate  was  there, 
writes  as  follows  :  — 

Mayor's  Office,  City  of  Salem,  AIaos., 

Auffti     ?t,  1877. 

Dear  Sir,  —  Your  favor  of  the  26th  of  July 
brings  vividly  to  my  mind's  eye 

The  face,  the  form,  the  01.111  so  true,  — 

of  my  beloved  college  friend,  the  late  Rufus 
Choate.  Your  note  8o  quickened  my  mind's  eye 
that  it  again  sees  his  manly  and  attractive  figure 
and  strangely  winning  face ;  —  and  my  mind's  ear 
that  it  again  hears  his  deeply-resonant,  sweet- 
toned,  and  impressive  voice,  wakening  in  me 
many  a  reminiscence  of  his  gentleness  of  temper 
and  disposition,  his  warm  sympathies,  his  innate 
sense  of  right,  his  refined  courtesy,  his  love  of  all 
that  was  beautiful  in  life,  his  attractiveness  of 
person  and  manner,  his  memory,  his  thoroughness 
as  a  scholar,  and  his  excellence  in  all  that  makes 
a  good  and  great  man. 


i 


FROM  HARVARD   TO  DARTMOUTH. 


353 


My  first  acqimintanre  witli  him  dntos  from  the 
month  of  Auj^ust,  ISlC),  whon,  ho  thi'ii  hcgimiing 
his  Sopiiomore  year,  I  joined  tiie  Junior  ehiss  at 
Dartmouth  Collej^e.  1  had  passed  my  first  two 
years  at  Harvard,  enterinj^  in  IS  14,  a  youngling 
not  quite  fourteen  years  of  age  ;  wiien  my  father, 
a  Calviii!  t  of  the  severer  type,  hi'comiug  uneasy 
at  the  alleged  tendeney  of  Ihirvard  toward  I'nita- 
riani'i  .,  ami  proh:i!j|y  feeling  the  pfessiu-e  of  the 
greater  ex  >ense  thereat,  transferred  me  to  Han- 
over. T  relinquished  my  old  assoeiations  at  Har- 
vard with  deepest  regret,  but  the  transplanted 
roots  after  a  while  found  <renial  soil,  and  Ix'ucan  to 
feed  from  the  new  earth.  A  few  weeks  domieiled 
me  among  my  new  associates,  while  the  excite- 
ment attending  the  existence  at  lianover.  at  one 
and  the  same  time,  of  a  "  Dartmouth  College " 
with  its  corps  of  teachers  and  some  one  hundred 
and  forty  students,  and  a  "  Dartmoutli  Univer- 
sity "  with  its  duet  of  teachers  and  its  corporal's 
guard  of  students,  helped  me  to  think  Icf^s  of 
home  and  more  of  surroundings  and  duty,  and  I 
gradually  settled  down  to  my  work. 

Of  those  whose  active  kindness  helped  to  lift 
me  out  of  my  slough  of  despond,  I  recall  none 
with  more  earnest  gratitude  than  him  of  whom  I 
write,  at  whose  room,  in  the  house  of  Professor 
Ebenezer  Adams,  I  was  a  frequent  visitor. 

23 


\A 


■B 


354 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


(,.  : 


ill 


He  was  about  a  year  older  than  myself,  but  of 
an  almost  incredible  maturity  of  mind.  Being 
from  my  own  State  and  county,  he  encouraged 
me  by  considerate  and  timely  sympathy,  and  stim- 
ulated me,  as  he  did  all  of  us,  by  his  pertinac- 
ity in  study  and  success  in  his  work.  Yet  such 
was  the  simplicity  of  his  character,  his  freedom  of 
intercourse  with  us  all,  his  genial  outflow  in  com- 
panionship,—  "medicines  that  he  gave  us  to  make 
US  love  him,"  —  that  each  of  us,  delighted  with 
him  as  a  man,  and  charmed  by  him  as  a  scholar, 
was  at  all  times  ready  to  exclaim,  like  the  shep- 
herd in  Virgil's  Eclogue,  — 

"  Non  ccjuidfiii  invideo,  miror  magis ! " 

A  passage  describing  Cicero  has  often  come 
to  my  mind  when  I  have  thought  of  Clioate,  — 
"  Quum  eas  artes  disceret,  quihus  cetas  puerlHs  so- 
let  ad  humanitatem  Informari,  ingenium  ejus  ita  il- 
luxit,  ut  eum  a'quahs  e  schold  redeuntes,  medium, 
tanqnam  regem  circumstantes,  domum  deducerent ; 
imo,  eorwn  jJCtreiites  pueri  fama  commoti  in  ludiim 
litterarmm  ventlfahant  ut  eum  viserenty  We  looked 
upon  him  as  facile  princeps,  no  man  in  any  of 
the  classes  being  even  named  with  him  in  point 
of  scholarship.  In  fact  we  did  not  count  him  at 
all  in  rating  scholarship,  but  set  him  apart  and 
above  ub  all,  "  himself  his  only  parallel." 

His  method  of  study  seemed  to  the  rest  of  us  to 


^1 


to 


APPEARANCE  AT  STUDY. 


355 


have  crystallized  into  an  abiding  habit,  definite  in 
nianner  and  determinate  in  purpose.  I  have  often 
seen  him  in  the  act  of  delving  at  his  books.  His 
large  and  well-shaped  head  usually  rested  upon 
his  hands,  his  elbows  upon  the  table,  his  fingers 
running  through  the  profuse  growth  of  his  dark, 
curly  hair.  His  eyes  also  were  dark,  with  a 
mild  yet  penetrating  look,  always  suggestive  of 
sadness,  as  were  the  features  of  his  expressive 
face,  which  enchained  one's  attention  by  its  very 
pensiveness,  in  marked  contrast,  not  seldom,  with 
many  a  playful  utterance,  which  Hashed  out  with 
no  effervescence  of  laughter,  or  uproar  of  bois- 
terous merriment. 

There  was  a  custom,  in  our  day,  of  assigning, 
on  each  alternate  Wednesday,  subjects  to  two  or 
three  members  of  the  Senior  and  Junior  classes, 
the  essays  on  which  were  to  be  read  in  chtipel  on 
the  next  Wednesday  fortnight,.  These  readings 
were  open  to  the  public,  and  ordinarily  there  was 
plenty  of  room.  But  when  it  was  Choate's  turn 
to  read,  the  chapel  was  crowded,  the  gentlemen, 
ladies,  and  even  the  youth  of  the  village  Hocking 
to  hear  the  brilliant  essayist,  led  thither  by  his 
grasp  of  the  subject,  his  eloquent  diction,  and 
his  beautiful  imagery.  At  times,  and  always  at 
the  appropriate  time,  his  sense  of  humor,  uncon- 
sciously operative,  perhaps,  lighted  up  his  features 


'n 


,1  ^  ? 

.   ■H 
•   51' 


i.  ' 


356 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


with  an  infectious  smile  as  he  set  forth  some  ab- 
surdity in  a  manner  so  luminous  and  palpable  that 
the  air  of  the  chapel  would  undulate  with  the  soft 
murmuring  of  restrained  merriment.  And  yet  no 
man  was  more  tender  in  feeling,  or  had  in  him 
less  of  the  spirit  of  ridicule,  or  more  of  charity 
and  good-will  to  all  mankind.  If  the  phrase  be 
permissible,  his  humor  was  characterized  by  a 
stately  dignity,  which,  while  fitting  the  occasion, 
most  felicitously  illustrated  his  intent,  and  had 
nothing  in  it  of  harshness.  It  lacerated  no  one's 
feelings,  provoked  no  fretful  retort.  He  was 
wholly  free  from  any  self-complacent  conscious- 
ness of  superiority  in  talent  or  acquirement  over 
his  college  mates,  —  so  free  that  I  doubt  whether 
he  himself  thought  any  such  superiority  existed, 
manifest  though  it  was  to  all  the  rest  of  us.  But 
neither  in  college  nor  in  after-life,  so  far  as  I 
know,  did  he  give  token  of  any  such  cognition. 
To  us,  his  companionship  was  a  constant  benedic- 
tion, and  we  sought  his  society  as  we  would  seek 
a  haven  of  repose  and  comfort. 

His  influence,  both  personal  and  as  a  scholar, 
was  operative  with  every  member  of  the  seven 
classes  that  enjoyed  college  life  with  him,  —  an 
influence  that,  feeble  in  his  earlier  college  life, 
assiuned,  before  the  end  of  the  first  year,  a  power 
and  a  reach  far  beyond  that  of  any  other  mem- 


■'5 


INFLUENCE  IN  COLLEGE. 


357 


ber  of  the  college.  His  preparation  had  been  a 
little  imperfect,  and  he  did  not,  therefore,  give  ns 
at  first  the  real  impress  of  Avhat  he  was.  But  hav- 
hig  once  taken  root,  and  feeling  the  power  and 
strength  of  the  wider  instruction,  he  grew  with 
marvelous  rapidity.  His  facility  at  concentrating 
his  mind  upon  any  given  subject,  and  acquiring 
all  that  was  to  be  learned  about  it,  was  without 
parallel,  and  in  every  department  of  study  rap- 
idly put  him  far  in  advance  of  his  fellows.  The 
general  standard  of  scholarship  among  us  received 
from  him  a  positive  and  most  noticeable  elevation. 
This  influence  was  felt  among  officials  and  under- 
graduates, and  it  began  to  be  realized  that  the 
old  rule  of  the  arithmetics,  that  "  more  required 
more,"  was  making  men  work  harder  and  with 
more  will,  and  that  a  decidedly  new  departure 
had  been  taken,  never  to  be  retraced.  And  yet 
the  hindrances  that  in  our  time  impeded  l)otli 
teachers  and  taught  were  most  perplexing  and 
discouraging.  President  Wheelock  and  the  board 
of  trustees  had  got  by  the  ears,  the  issue  of  the 
contest  bringing  him  to  grief  and  to  deposition 
from  office.  A  new  president.  Rev.  Francis  Brown, 
was  elected,  and  time  was  required  for  him  to  get 
well  into  harness,  and  to  make  the  college  feel  the 
healthful  influence  which  he  afterwards  so  admi- 
rably and  efficiently  exerted.    Never  was  college 


i 


P!  S' 


III 

III  I 
m  .1 


358 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C HO  ATE. 


official  more  beloved  and  revered.  The  rival  in- 
stitution, created  by  the  State  legislature,  had 
been  duly  inaugurated,  had  been  put  into  pos- 
session of  the  college  seal,  and  the  college  library 
was  its  only  building  and  chapel.  We  lads  had 
looked  out  for  the  two  libraries  of  the  college 
societies,  —  the  "  Fraternity  "  and  the  "  Social 
Friends,"  —  and  had  safely  removed  them  from 
the  college  buildings  to  private  quarters ;  so  that 
when  Professors  Dean  and  Carter  of  the  uni- 
versity, with  a  horde  of  village  roughs,  knowing 
nothing  of  such  removal,  broke  into  the  library 
room  of  the  "  Social  Friends,"  the  members  of 
the  "  Fraternity,"  then  in  session,  hearing  the 
crash  of  axes  and  crowbars,  rushed  to  the  rescue, 
and  made  prisoners  of  the  whole  crowd,  sending 
home  the  ignobile  vnlgus,  but  imprisoning  Dean 
and  Carter  vmtil  they  pledged  their  honor  that 
they  would  "  never  do  so  again."  They  were 
then  escorted  to  their  homes,  each  by  a  trio  of 
collegians.  Neither  name  of  these  professors,  nor 
that  of  Allen,  president  of  the  new  university,  will 
be  found  in  the  "  Triennial  Government  Catalogue 
of  Dartmouth,"  they  being  unrecognized  inter- 
lopers. In  fact,  the  whole  creation  of  the  uni- 
versity was  a  political  fraud,  "  a  thing  of  shreds 
and  patches,"  which,  at  the  bidding  of  the  Su- 
preme Court  of  the  United  States,  after  Webster's 


DISTURBING  ELEMENTS. 


359 


great  argument,  like  an  "  insubstantial  pageant 
faded,"  leaving  "  not  a  wrack  behind."  But  it 
was  a  disturbing  element  for  a  time,  and  could 
not  but  occupy  our  thoughts  and  conversation, 
and  unfavorably  caffect  our  study. 

I  remember  well  the  poverty  of  our  illustrative 
apparatus,  and  the  ingenious  devices  to  which  Pro- 
fessor Adams  was  compelled  to  resort  to  supple- 
ment it.  Not  seldom  was  he  constrained  to  leave 
to  our  imagination  the  practical  demonstration 
of  some  principle  in  natural  philosophy.  So,  too, 
were  we  without  the  college  library,  which,  though 
then  small,  had,  nevertheless,  many  valuable  books 
of  reference  that  would  greatly  have  helped  us 
through  many  a  difficult  passage  in  our  classics. 
As  for  recitation-rooms  and  a  chapel,  we  got  them 
in  the  villnge  wherever  we  could.  The  whole 
situation  was  a  tangle  of  embarrassments ;  and  if 
there  ever  was  an  actual  "  pursuit  of  knowledge 
under  difficulties,"  it  was  at  Dartmouth  College, 
— 1815-1818,  —  when  Choate  was  an  undergrad- 
uate. 

But  tlie  extraordinary  state  of  affairs  itself, 
the  sympatliy  of  the  college  instructors  with  the 
struggling  and  loyal  students,  and  the  sympathy 
of  the  students  with  the  faithful  and  self-sacri- 
ficing teachers  generated  a  spirit  of  earnest  and 
successful  industry;  and  I  have  always  believed 


m 

"58 

m\ 


<*  ■ 


■I- 


ti' 


M  1 


360 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE. 


vm 


1 


that  the  good  order,  the  thoughtful  fidelity  to 
work,  and  the  unbroken  friendship  between  the 
teachers  and  the  taught,  supplemented  by  the 
strong  religious  influence  which  then  pervaded 
the  institution,  were  all  ministrations  which 
helped  to  turn  evil  into  good  for  us  all.  Our 
successors  at  the  college  can  never  realize  the 
weight  of  the  troubles  that  embarrassed  us,  or 
the  joy  we  felt  when  those  troubles  j^assed  away. 
May  they,  in  her  prosperity,  be  as  faithful  to  her 
as  were  we  in  her  deep  adversity. 

But  to  return :  I  graduated  in  1818,  leaving 
Choate  behind  me.  He  graduated  in  1819,  with 
the  valedictory,  —  an  address  which  exhibited  to 
the  full  his  eminent  scholarship,  his  profound 
thought,  the  breadth  and  extent  of  his  reading, 
his  comprehensive  grasp  of  fact  and  power  of 
statement,  and  the  magnetism  of  his  oratory. 

He  served  afterward  a  single  year  as  tutor,  and 
then  commenced  a  course  of  study  at  the  Law 
School  at  Cambridge,  continuing  it  in  the  office, 
at  Washington,  of  Mr.  Wirt,  Attorney-General  of 
the  United  States.  His  fidelity  in  study,  and  his 
purity  of  life,  when  an  undergraduate,  character- 
ized him  while  preparing  for  his  profession.  I 
lost  sight  of  him  mainly  during  these  years,  hav- 
ing myself  entered  upon  the  work  of  a  teacher 
in  the  public  Latin  School  of  this  city.     He,  how- 


FAITHFUL  IN  SMALL   THINGS. 


361 


ever,  reappeared  in  our  neighborhood,  opening 
his  office  in  Danvers,  that  portion  of  the  town 
now  called  Peabody,  practically  a  suburb  of 
Salem.  Here  he  laid  the  foundation  of  his  fu- 
ture success,  by  a  faithfulness  in  small  things 
which  proved  his  fitness  to  be  intrusted  ^yith 
the  conduct  of  greater.  I  met  him  but  occa- 
sionally, yet  always  received  from  him  the  same 
genial  recognition  that  had  '^o  often  made  me 
happy  in  college  ;  and  I  have  always  considered 
it,  and  shall  continue  to  consider  it,  as  one  of 
the  highest  happinesses  of  a  not  short  life,  that 
I  was  permitted  for  so  many  years  to  enjoy  the 
friendship  of  sa  good,  so  pure,  so  noble  a  man  as 
Rufus  Choate. 

Very  truly  yours, 

HENRY  K.  OLIVER. 


!  ml 


LETTER  FROM  WILLIAM  W.  STORY,  LL.  D. 


I  AM  indebted  to  William  W.  Story,  LL.  D.,  ju- 
rist, author,  and  now  sculptor  at  Rome,  for  the 
following  letter :  — 


My  dear  Sir,  —  I  oeg  you  to  accept  my  thanks 
for  the  two  volumes,  one  containing  the  orations 
and  addresses  of  Mr.  Choate,  and  the  other  his  life 
by  Mr.  Brown.  These,  as  well  as  the  articles  in 
the  "  Albany  Law  Journal,"  which  you  were  so 
kind  as  to  send  me,  I  have  read  with  great  inter- 
est and  pleasure. 

I  wish  it  were  in  my  power,  as  it  certainly  is  in 
my  good  will,  to  furnish  you,  as  you  request,  with 
any  reminiscences  of  Mr.  Choate  which  could  be 
of  interest  either  to  his  family  and  friends  or 
to  the  public.  But,  unfortunately,  I  was  never 
brought  into  any  intimate  relation  with  him  ;  and 
such  was  the  dift'erence  of  our  ages  and  positions 
during  the  period  that  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
knowing  him,  that  I  had  few  opportunities  of 
coming  into  close  personal  contact  with  him,  and. 


HUMOR  AND  COXVERSATION. 


3G3 


for  the  most  part,  only  surveyed  him  at  a  dis- 
tance, as  one  darkly  groping  his  way  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  profession  of  the  law  looks  up  to  a 
great  and  dazzling  reputation  already  in  its  zenith, 
and  drawing  to  it  the  eyes  of  all. 

My  first  personal  acquaintance  with  him  was 
while  I  was  studying  law  in  the  olHce  of  Mr. 
Charles  Sunmer  and  Mr.  George  Stillmau  Hillard. 
His  oflice  was  in  the  same  building,  and  occasion- 
ally he  would  come  in  either  to  consult  upon 
some  professional  question,  or,  what  was  more  fre- 
quent, to  relax  his  mind  in  wide  excursions  with 
them  in  the  varied  fields  of  literature,  to  wander 
into  classic  regions,  to  discuss  critical  questions,  to 
dissect  characters,  persons,  or  authors,  and,  in  a 
word,  to  talk  "  cle  omnibus  rebus  et  quibusdam 
aliisy  At  these  interviews  I  played  the  part  of  a 
listener,  and  better  talk  it  would  have  been  diffi- 
cult to  hear.  His  conversation,  stimulated,  as  it 
was,  by  such  companions  as  Hillard  and  Sumner, 
who  were  always  ready  to  turn  aside  from  the 
arid  paths  of  the  law  into  any  "  primrose  path  of 
dalliance,"  and  who  were  both  capable  and  willing 
to  explore  with  him  the  wide  regions  of  universal 
literature,  was  eminently  interesting,  and,  haud 
passihus  o'qiiis,  I  followed  as  they  led,  drawn  by 
a  special  charm.  His  conversation  was  sometimes 
grave   and   critical,  with  many  an   allusion   and 


i»<f|fi 


I 


364 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


11 


quotation  from  classic  authors ;  sometimes  philo- 
sophical, with  discussions  of  theories  and  doctrines 
of  politics,  life,  and  thought ;  sometimes  grimly 
humorous,  with  trenchant  strokes  of  characteriza- 
tion and  finesse  of  anatomizing.  His  humor  was 
very  peculiar,  and  often  consisted  of  a  new,  orig- 
inal, and  quite  unexpected  epithet;  as,  for  in- 
stance, when  he  spoke  of  a  likeness  as  being 
"flagrant;"  or  of  a  sly,  sudden,  and  complete  re- 
versal of  what  he  had  previously  seemed  gravely 
to  assert.  As  an  instance  of  this  latter  peculiar- 
ity, I  remember  that  once,  when  the  conversation 
happened  to  turn  upon  a  person  whose  manners 
and  bearing  were  peculiarly  distasteful,  he  gravely 
said,  as  if  in  deprecation  of  the  criticism  of  oth- 
ers, "  He  is  a  person  whom  I  myself  should  have 
no  objection  to  meet "  —  and  then,  after  a  slight 
pause,  added  —  "  in  a  procession." 

His  love  of  epithets  was  remarkable,  and  the 
richness  of  his  vocabulary  so  great  that  often  it 
might  be  said  of  him,  as  it  was  of  Shakespeare, 
that  he  needed  somewhat  to  be  restrained.  But 
many  as  were  the  adjectives  that  he  habitually 
used,  they  were  never  idly  strung  together  with- 
out definiteness  and  distinction  of  mectuing.  As 
he  added  one  to  another,  each  seemed  a  new  and 
calculated  stroke  to  the  characterization,  and,  as  it 
were,  a  compressed  sentence  in  itself.     He  had 


:!'I 


A  LIITERA  Tl  VE   STYLE. 


365 


carefully  stiuliecl  the  English  language  in  its  best 
authors,  and  was  a  master  of  its  liner  distinctions 
of  expression  ;  and  overwhelming  at  times  as  were 
his  adjectives,  they  were  never  hurriedly  snatched 
at  to  fill  a  gap,  but,  on  the  contnuy,  were  care- 
fully selected,  and  with  a  purpose  to  strengthen, 
enlarge,  or  make  precise  his  full  meaning,  culmi- 
nating often  in  one  of  peculiar  signihcance.  On 
public  occasions,  as  he  uttered  them,  one  after 
another,  slowly  and  distinctly,  and  weighing  on 
each,  he  lifted  himself  higher  and  higher,  rising 
on  tiptoe,  his  voice  also  rising  with  ever  stronger 
and  higher  emphasis,  until  he  came  to  the  last 
word,  and  then  he  suddenly  settled  down  upon 
his  heels  with  a  downward  sway  of  the  body,  and, 
dropping  his  voice  to  a  low  inflection,  flung  it,  as 
it  were,  almost  carelessly  down.  It  was  like  a 
wave  that  gathers  and  accumulates  and  heaves 
upward  to  its  fullness  of  height  and  then  bursts 
and  falls  exhausted  on  the  beach. 

In  illustration  of  his  highly,  alliterative  style 
and  fondness  for  piling  epithets  one  upon  another, 
may  be  instanced  the  question  he  addressed  to  the 
jury  in  his  well-known  defense  of  Albert  Tirrell 
against  the  charge  of  murder.  If  not  absolutely 
true  in  fact,  it  is  at  least  eminently  character- 
istic of  his  manner  —  "What,"  he  cried  out, 
"  must  at  such  a  moment  have  been  the  feelings 


i  i 


li 


36G 


MEMORIES  OP  RUFUS  C  HO  ATE, 


of  this  fond,  foolish,  fickle-futed,  and  infatuated 
Albert,  when,"  etc.  Possibly  this  sentence  was, 
to  some  extent,  invented  or  enlarged  afterwards ; 
but  it  was  evidently  founded  on  fact.  Nothing 
could  be  more  characteristic  than  that,  after  the 
first  word  '•  fond,"  he  should  immediately  have 
added  "  foolish,"  as  if  he  remembered  the  old 
meaning  of  the  word,  and  translated  it  into  ir'^d- 
ern  English.  Each  word  is  intensified  beyonu  its 
predecessor,  and  each  illustrates  the  view  of  Tir- 
rell's  mind  which  he  desired  to  impress  upon  the 

jury. 

In  this  connection  may  be  told  the  mot  of  Mr. 
Justice  Wilde,  which,  as  far  as  I  know,  has  not 
been  recorded  in  print.  This  acute  and  able 
judge  was  somewhat  dry  and  precise  in  his  style 
and  manner,  and,  in  most  respects,  the  complete 
opposite  of  Mr.  Choate.  On  one  occasion,  just 
before  the  opening  of  the  court,  when  Mr.  Choate 
was  to  argue  a  case,  a  member  of  the  bar  asked 
the  Judge  if  he  had  heard  that  Mr.  Worcester  had 
just  published  a  new  edition  of  his  dictionary, 
with  a  great  number  of  additional  words.  "  No," 
he  answered,  "I  have  not  heard  of  it.  But  for 
God's  sake  don't  tell  Choate." 

No  one  would  have  relished  this  joke  more  than 
Mr.  Choate  himself,  and  I  think  he  would  have 
admitted  that  Judge  Wilde  had  made  a  good 


FULLNESS  OF  MIND. 


367 


h 

lor 


point,  where  he  was  viilnenible.  But,  after  nil, 
it  was  not  in  the  mind  of  the  learned  Judire,  or 
of  any  other  person,  to  desire  to  retrench  that 
wonderful  richness  of  language  which  the  great 
advocate  used  with  such  masterly  ability  and  elo- 
quence. It  was  the  fullness  of  his  mind,  the  fine- 
ness of  his  fastidiousness,  the  extent  of  his  culture 
that  begot  the  peculiarities  of  his  utterance.  In 
his  speeches,  as  in  his  writings,  this  double  desire 
of  limitation  and  exposition,  combined  with  his 
large  range  of  active  and  imaginative  thought, 
led  him  often  to  overflow  his  banks  with  a  prodi- 
gal stream  which  disdained  the  boundaries  of  sim- 
ple periods.  His  sentences  refuse  to  come  to  a 
conclusion.  A  new  illustration  or  variation  or  de- 
velopment, limitation  or  side  light  strikes  him 
before  he  can  come  to  a  pause,  and  carries  him 
away  with  it;  and,  with  parenthetical  involve- 
ments, excursions  beyond  the  direct  line,  inclu- 
sions of  suspected  objections  which  he  is  eager  to 
anticipate,  or  imaginative  illustrations  and  memo- 
ries that  will  not  be  refused,  he  sweeps  an  undu- 
lating train  of  lengthening  clauses  along,  ana- 
conda-like in  its  movement,  yet  strong  of  grasp 
as  are  the  anaconda's  folds,  until  his  sentence  has 
grown  into  a  paragraph.  But,  despite  this  singu- 
lar involvement  of  style,  there  is  no  want  of  clear- 
ness either  of  thought  or  of  expression  j  each  part 


368 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


is  knotted  to  the  rest  by  vertebral  articulation. 
They  are  all  portions  of  one  whole  living  thing. 

His  wonderful  power  over  a  jury  was  not  the 
result  of  his  eloquence,  impetuous  and  often  over- 
whelming as  it  was,  so  much  as  of  his  subtlety  of 
logic,  his  acuteness  of  analysis,  his  eminent  faculty 
of  marshalling  facts  and  incidents  in  a  new  and 
unexpected  sequence  and  relation,  so  as  to  cast  a 
doubt  on  what  seemed  clear  before,  or  to  throw 
a  new  light  on  what  was  previously  obscure,  his 
finesse  at  forcing,  so  to  speak,  his  view,  his  imag- 
inative elucidations  by  hypothetical  suppositions 
and  ingenious  explanations  of  apparently  simple 
events,  and  his  penetration  of  character  which  en- 
abled him  to  seize  the  weak  points  of  witnesses  and 
parties,  and  to  draw  into  his  confidence  the  jur3'. 

He  was  in  the  habit  of  treating  the  jury  with 
assumed  deference  and  politeness,  and  often  se- 
lected one  among  them  to  appeal  to  significantly, 
as  if  he  were  the  sagacious  person  who  really  saw 
and  appreciated  the  point  he  was  enforcing.  At 
times  he  would  stop  in  full  career,  and  say  some- 
thing to  this  effect,  "  But  it  is  useless  to  urge  this 
further.  I  see  by  the  intelligent  eye  of  the  fore- 
man that  he  has  thoroughly  comprehended  the 
extreme  force  of  this  view."  Then,  again,  he  had 
great  readiness  of  parry  as  well  as  of  assault,  and 
never  was  surprised  so  as  to  lose  his  guard  or  at- 


METHODS  AT  THE  BAR. 


369 


tack,  or  to  be  unready  for  a  replique.  He  was  also 
wary  and  acute  in  the  examination  of  witnesses, 
and  so  bland  in  his  manner  as  to  hide  the  point  of 
his  question.  He  never  lost  his  temper,  was  uni- 
formly courteous  and  urbane  to  his  opponents  and 
to  the  Bench,  though  he  often  concealed  beneath 
this  urbanity  the  keenest  irony  of  criticism  and 
argument.  While  submitting  to  the  ruling  of  the 
Bench,  he  had  the  art  to  elude  its  consequences 
and  diminish  its  importance.  He  was  never  head- 
strong, single-viewed,  or  obstinate  to  one  absolute 
course.  If  he  could  not  make  a  breach  on  one 
side,  he  changed  his  tactics  and  made  an  assault 
on  another.  But,  besides  and  beyond  all  this,  he 
entered  into  the  facts  of  a  case  in  an  imaginative 
spirit,  creating  new  possibilities  of  explanation, 
new  theories  of  action,  throwing  subordinate  inci- 
dents into  strong  light  and  color,  giving  positive 
value  to  what  was  negative,  and  casting  promi- 
nent incidents  into  shade,  treading  with  sure  and 
balanced  step  along  a  line  of  attack  or  defense  as 
narrow  as  "  the  unsteadfast  footing  of  a  spear." 

His  extraordinary  defense  of  Tirrell  will,  I 
think,  fully  justify,  in  itself,  all  that  I  have  said 
of  him  as  an  advocate  before  a  jury. 

In  his  arguments  of  law  to  the    Court,  where 

the  arts  he  used  in  jury  cases  were  of  little  avail, 

he  showed  himself  to  be  a  master  of  close  logical 
84 


370 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


liii'' 


i!]"i 
:!'ili 


reasoning,  of  acute  powers  of  comparison  and  dis- 
crimination, as  well  as  of  clear  and  persuasive  ar- 
gument. His  guard  was  close,  his  rapidity  and 
subtlety  of  fence  remarkable,  his  points  keen  and 
well  directed. 

His   personal   appearance  was   remarkable.      I 
think  no  one  could  come  into  his  presence  with- 
out being   impressed  by  it.     His  broad,  massive 
forehead  was  crowned  with  a  dark  mass  of  richly 
curling,  fine,  and  almos'     arbulent  hair,  through 
which  he  constantly  passed  his  hand,  and  beneath 
his  overhanging  brow  were  dark,  deeply-sunken, 
and  somewhat  weary  eyes  of  serious  intent  and 
expression,  framed  in  dark  circles.     His  nose  was 
rather  large,  his  upper  lip  short;  and  his  under 
lip,  projecting   somewhat   beyond,  he   constantly 
thrust  out  as  if  to  grasp  and  hold  it  firm  ;  while  a 
strong  jaw  closed  and  locked  up,  as  it  were,  the 
whole  face  with  purpose  and  power.     His  cheeks 
were  gaunt  and  hollow,  as  if  worn  by  study.     In- 
deed, the  whole  face  was  that  of  a  thinker  and 
student,  which  long   hours  of  labor  by  day  and 
night  had  made  haggard.     There  was  seriousness, 
gravity,  and  a  certain   pathos  of  character  and 
sadness  of  experience  in  its  repose.     In  its  lighter 
moods,  it  was  illumined  by  genial  gleams  of  humor 
and  the  summer  lightning  of  feeling,  and  in  mo- 
ments of  excitement  it  glowed  and  radiated  with 


ABSTRACTED  BEARING. 


371 


inward  fire  like  a  forge  wlien  the  bellows  are  in 
blast.  His  frame  was  large,  well  knit,  and  ner- 
vous. His  ordinary  gait  in  walking,  as  I  remem- 
ber him,  was  inclined  to  be  slouching,  as  of  a 
person  engaged  in  introverted  thought;  and,  in 
sitting,  it  was  sunken  and  overweighed,  as  it  were, 
into  itself.  When  speaking  in  public,  he  was  full 
of  action  and  nervous  gesticulation.  He  swayed 
backward  and  forward,  advancing  and  retreating, 
emphasized  by  coming  sharply  down  on  his  heels, 
now  bending  down,  and  now  lifting  himself  to  his 
full  and  commanding  height,  and  enforcing  his 
utterance  with  a  sharp,  impulsive,  upward  ges- 
ture. 

I  had  a  great  admiration  for  him,  not  only  on 
account  of  his  power  as  an  advocate,  of  his  emi- 
nence as  a  public  man,  of  his  genial  nature,  hu- 
mor, sensibility,  and  accomplishment  in  letters, 
but,  beyond  all  this,  for  a  certain  somewhat,  mys- 
terious and  poetic,  which  always  seemed  to  me  to 
haunt  him,  and  which  lay  below  all  his  outer  show 
of  character.  There  was  something  in  his  silent 
eyes,  in  his  often  abstracted  and  involved  bear- 
ing, in  the  gloom  and  wan  expression  of  his  face, 
which  seemed  to  hide  an  inner  life,  fed  from  secret 
springs,  and  given  to  far  aspirations  and  longings 
outside  the  public  and  ordinary  routine  of  the  life 
he  seemed  to  lead.   This  may  have  been  all  vision- 


m 


372 


MEMORIES  OF  liUFUS  CIIOATE. 


11 


ary  on  my  part,  but  I  cannot  refrain  from  stat- 
ing this  singular  impression  which  he  gave  me. 
What  he  had  missed,  what  he  wanted,  I  cannot 
say ;  nor  can  I  say  that  he  had  missed  or  wanted 
anything,  except  as  we  all  miss  and  want  some- 
thing which  is  denied  us,  indefinite,  unexplained, 
perhaps,  but  not  the  less  desired.  Still,  it  always 
seemed  to  me,  from  what  I  saw  of  him  nearly, 
that  he  had  another  life,  behind  and  beneath  this 
that  we  knew,  "  of  purer  ether,  of  diviner  air," 
perhaps  of  disappointment  around  which  a  mys- 
tery hovered.  I  give  my  impression  for  what  it  is 
worth.  It  is  quite  possible  that  it  is  but  a  mere 
unsubstantial  fabric  built  by  my  own  imagination 
in  dreamland. 

But  to  return  to  facts.  He  brought  scholarship 
into  his  profession,  and  this  gave  a  certain  grace, 
refinement,  and  happiness  to  all  intercourse  with 
him.  Sternly  as  he  trod  the  dusty  and  thorny 
path  of  the  law,  he  snatched  many  an  interval  to 
wander  into  the  fields  of  Arcadia  and  there  make 
friends  with  the  spirits  of  old,  and  drink  of  the 
ancient  springs  of  philosophy,  poetry,  history,  and 
ethics,  as  well  as  of  the  more  modern  "  wells  of 
English  undefiled."  The  fine  edge  of  his  intellect 
was  sharpened  by  constant  attrition  with  the  great 
minds  of  the  past,  and  the  secret  sources  of  feeling 
kept  fresh  by  their  poetic  and  enlarging  influ- 


-^^ 


HIS  CONVERSATION. 


373 


ences.  His  conversation  was  enriched  with  allu- 
sion and  quotation  from  many  an  author;  and 
many  a  flower,  gathered  in  their  gardens,  gave 
fragrance  and  color  to  dry  legal  argument.  You 
knew  where  he  had  been  by  the  odor  which  ever 
clung  to  his  commonest  daily  life.  He  was  not  a 
mere  lawyer,  nor  did  he  deem  it  necessary  to  con- 
fine himself  exclusively  to  the  tread-mill  of  profes- 
sional business.  He  was  capable  of  severe  and 
prolonged  work,  and  few  men  have  ever  labored 
with  more  earnest  zeal.  The  Law  is  a  jealous 
mistress,  and  makes  heavy  demands  on  all  who 
would  win  her  prizes  as  he  did.  But  she  is  apt  to 
suck  the  blood  of  her  too  assiduous  devotees,  and 
leave  them  at  last  dry,  rigid,  and  sapless.  Ear- 
nest as  Mr.  Choate  was  in  his  duty  to  her,  he  did 
not  forget  that  there  are  other  fields  of  study  be- 
yond hers,  to  which  she  did  not  deny  him  en- 
trance, and  from  which  he  brought  back  many  a 
fragrant  flower  to  wreathe  about  her  careworn 
brow  and  enliven  her  dusty  courts. 

But  it  is  time  for  me  to  stop.  I  did  not  mean 
to  write  an  essay  on  Mr.  Choate's  genius,  and 
you  see  that  I  can  add  little  to  what  has  already 
been  said  by  others,  and  nothing  that  is  worthy 
of  publication.  I  regret  extremely  that  I  can 
find  in  my  memory  only  these  vague  general  im- 
pressions, and  these  few  straws  and  chips  of  per- 


374 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


sonal  reminiscence,  which  are  of  no  value  save  as 

a  record  of  my  admiration  for  one  of  the  greatest 

advocates  that  ever  adorned  our  own  or  any  other 

country.  I  have  the  honor  to  be, 

Yours  most  faithfully, 

W.  W.  STORY. 
Honorable  Chief  Justice  Neilson. 


LETTER  FROM  HON.  GEORGE  P.  MARSH. 


Hon.  George  P.  Marsh,  the  distingished  phi- 
lologist, author  of  works  upon  the  English  lan- 
guage, and  for  many  years  United  States  Minister 
to  Italy,  had  the  courtesy  to  send  me  the  follow- 
ing. It  was  mailed  at  Rome  a  few  weeks  before 
his  death. 


My  dear  Sir,  —  The  advent  of  the  usual  crowd 
of  strangers  and  the  business  demands  of  the  com- 
mencement of  another  year  have  occupied  me  so 
constantly  that  I  have  not  found  time  to  thank 
you  for  your  very  interesting  letter  and  for  Mr. 
Brown's  life  of  Choate,  which  I  had,  indeed,  seen 
but  had  never  had  an  opportunity  of  perusing. 

I  first  knew  Mr.  Choate  as  a  member  of  the 
Sophomore  class  at  Dartmouth  College  in  the  au- 
tumn of  1816,  when  he  already  towered  far  above 
all  our  co-disciples,  and  held  the  same  preeminence 
over  those  who  came  in  contact  with  him  which 
he  retained  through  the  changes  of  his  after  life. 
At  that  time  scholarship,  not  power  or  influence, 


Li 


376 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  C HO  ATE. 


'■■! 


[1       j; 


was  his  aim,  and  it  was  not  until  some  years  later 
that  he  thought  of  the  bar  as  a  desirable  career. 
He  was  then  engaged  in  reading  Cicero's  works, 
which,  with  such  editions  and  such  critical  helps 
(e.  g.  the  dictionaries  of  Schrevelius  and  Ains- 
worth)  as  most  American  scholars  could  then  com- 
mand, was  a  Herculean  task,  and  I  think  the  study 
of  Cicero's  orations  taught  him  the  value  of  am- 
plification, or  of  abundant  collateral  illustrations, 
in  oratory.  This  was  a  feature  of  his  eloquence 
in  which  he  excelled  all  other  men,  though  I 
think  his  picturesque  allusions  were  oftener  poetic 
reminiscences  than  fruits  of  the  actual  observation 
of  nature.  As  I  was  then  fresh  from  the  woods, 
where  my  boyish  hours  were  chiefly  spent,  I 
observed  his  want  of  sympathy  with  trees  and 
shrubs  and  rivers  and  rocks  and  mountains  and 
plains,  as  quasi  living  and  sentient  beings,  and 
this  was  the  only  defect  I  could  discover  in  his 
mental  organization.  Having  been  born  and  bred 
in  the  interior  of  what  was  then  popularly  called 
The  New  State,  I  had  enjoyed  but  a  single  mo- 
mentary glimpse  of  the  sea,  and  I  did  not  at  first 
perceive  that  the  ocean  occupied  with  Choate  the 
place  which  the  solid  earth,  with  its  thousand 
forms  and  myriad  products,  organic  and  inorganic, 
held  with  me;  but  with  Mr.  Dana,  the  distin- 
guished author  of  "  Two  Years  before  the  Mast," 


CRITICISMS  OF  CONTEMPORARIES. 


377 


he  was  more  expansive  on  this  subject,  and,  as  I 
learn  from  that  gentleman,  showed  the  greatest 
interest  in  nautical  matters  and  in  naval  history. 
When  I  was  in  Congress  (1843-49),  I  often 
talked  with  him  about  these  things,  but  I  found 
little  response  to  my  enthusiasm  for  Nature,  and 
little  interest  in  her  material  laws. 

Choate  habitually  spoke  freely  of  his  profes- 
sional allies  and  opponents,  but  his  criticisms  on 
them  were  generally  favorable.  Of  Mr.  Webster, 
whose  method  was  in  some  respects  the  opposite 
of  his  own,  he  always  spoke  with  the  profoundest 
admiration,  and  I  remember  to  have  heard  him 
mention  Webster's  astonishing  power  of  concen- 
trating his  argument  on  a  single  point,  to  the  sup- 
port of  which  the  many  points  which  would  have 
been  taken  by  other  lawyers  were  made  subser- 
vient and  auxiliary,  not  independent.  He  had  a 
very  exalted  opinion  of  Jeremiah  Mason,  whose 
manner  was  equally  opposite  to  his  own,  but  in 
quite  another  direction,  and  he  more  than  once 
said  to  me  that  he  did  not  believe  that  any  man 
ever  practiced  the  English  law  more  ably  than 
Mason.  Speaking  of  a  celebrated  lawyer  who 
was  censured  for  the  excessive  severity  of  his 
cross-examination,  Choate  said,  "  He  defends  him- 
self by  saying  that  he  is  never  hard  upon  a  wit- 
ness unless  he  believes  the  witness  to  be  lying.     I 


378 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


1  1. 


!  i 


think,"  added  Choate,  "  that  is  true ;  but  he  has 
a  way  of  making  the  witness  He  by  his  very  man- 
ner of  examining  him."  Webster  often  consulted 
Choate  in  the  preparation  of  his  Congressional 
speeches,  and  particularly  with  reference  to  the 
quotations  which  he  wished  to  introduce  into 
them ;  and  Mr.  Choate  sometimes  did  me  the 
honor  to  confer  with  me  on  these  points.  On  one 
occasion,  I  remember  he  asked  me  if  I  could  fur- 
nish him  with  the  original  source  of  an  expression 
which  in  a  later  age  became  proverbial :  Spartam 
quam  hahes  hanc  orna.  Being  myself  at  a  loss,  I 
referred  him  to  Mr.  John  Pennington  of  Philadel- 
phia, who  helped  us  out. 

I  was  much  interested  in  your  remarks  on 
Choate's  vocabulary.  His  study  of  the  English 
language  was  unceasing,  and  I  think  he  spoke  no 
other,  sacrificing  foreign  languages  to  his  mother 
tongue,  although  he  read  some  Continental  lan- 
guages with  sufficient  facility  for  ordinary  literary 
purposes.  I  should,  from  general  recollection, 
have  estimated  his  wealth  of  words  higher  than 
you  find  it.  It  interested  me  particularly  from 
some  shallow  and  ignorant  criticisms  on  my  lec- 
tures on  the  English  language  by  a  speaker  who 
said  he  had  made  a  careful  estimate  of  his  own 
habitual  vocabulary,  and  found  it  to  reach  30,000 
words ;  and  yet  the  critic  did  not  know  the  philo- 


m 


VOCABULARY. 


379 


logical  meaning  of  the  term  word  and  confounded 
derivations  from  a  root  with  inflections  of  a  stem. 
I  never  met  any  other  man  with  such  a  knowl- 
edge and  command  of  all  the  resources  of  English 
as  had  Mr.  Choate,  and  he  had  the  rare  gift  of 
using  words  so  that  each  made  those  with  which 
it  was  connected  bring  out  the  best,  or  at  least 
some  special,  meaning.  He  told  me  that  he  habit- 
ually read  the  dictionary,  and,  speaking  of  his 
translation  of  a  part  of  Thucydides  and  other 
classics,  he  said  he  undertook  the  work  for  the 
sake  of  the  English,  not  for  Greek.  Though  Mr. 
Choate  read  Greek  and  Latin  with  facility  and 
pleasure,  and  had  a  fair  acquaintance  with  the 
literature  of  more  than  one  Continental  nation, 
yet  he  did  not  share  in  the  fashionable  American 
craze  about  the  pursuit  of  foreign  languages,  and 
held  that  for  an  English-speaking  person  the  Eng- 
lish tongue  was  worth  all  others.  I  remember 
that  he  once  found  me  reading  Scarron,  and  in- 
quired sharply  how  I  found  time  for  reading  such 
trash.  I  answered  that  I  had  only  a  very  indif- 
ferent French  dictionary,  and  that  I  was  studying 
Scarron  for  the  sake  of  the  vocabulary.  ''  You 
may  find  old  words  enough,"  he  replied,  "  in 
French  authors  fit  to  be  read." 

The  critical  adage,  "  Manner  is  matter,"  was 
never  more  forcibly  exemplified  than  by  Choate, 


iH.^ 


380 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


i^ 


who  would  give  wonderful  effect  both  to  the 
grave  and  the  gay,  by  mere  manner.  He  would 
use,  sparingly  indeed,  but  most  ell'ectively,  popu- 
lar cant  words  and  phrases.  For  example,  in  a 
conversation  on  the  subject  of  New  York  politics, 
he  spoke  of  a  conspicuous  editor  as  having  squa- 
hoshed ;  and  of  another,  who  had  absconded,  as 
havinij  swartiroidtd.  The  first  of  these  occurs  in 
a  letter  printed  by  Mr.  Brown.  Such  words,  how- 
ever, he  seldom  used  except  in  jocular  conversa- 
tion. On  the  contrary,  in  his  public  addresses  to 
popular  audiences  he  was  very  choice  in  his  lan- 
guage, and  often  even  stunned  the  jury  by  words 
of  "  learned  length  and  thundering  sound."  In 
defending  an  action  for  crim.  con.,  referring  to 
some  testimony  of  a  character  very  damaging  to 
his  clients,  he  said,  '-  Well,  suppose  they  did  in- 
dulge in  some  innocent  toying,  by  way  of  miti- 
gating the  asperities  of  hay-making  !  "  This  was 
said  in  a  tone  of  perfect  seriousness,  and  did  not 
startle,  but  rather  confounded,  the  jury  he  was  ad- 
dressing. Webster  said  of  this  rhetorical  move- 
ment, "  Choate  is  the  only  man  in  the  world  who 
could  have  thus  said  that''  He  Gometimes  took 
great  liberties  with  the  jury.  On  one  occasion, 
observing  by  the  manner  of  a  juryman  that  he 
was  hostile  to  his  client,  he  caught  the  man's  eye, 
and,  pointing  directly  towards  him,  said,  "  I  will 


I 

M 


A    CIIRfSTfAN. 


381 


as 


ad- 


eye, 
will 


make  this  point  plain  —  I  will  make  it  plain  even 
to  you,  sir."  The  juryman  quailed,  and  finally 
agreed  to  the  verdict  desired  by  Mr.  Ciioate.  I 
once  heard  him  say  to  a  lady,  in  introducing  her 
to  a  new  member  of  Congress,  "  He  is  the  most 
learned  man  in  the  House  —  I  mean  of  his  age  — 
1  am  two  years  older."  This  was  not  much  to 
say,  but  the  manner  was  altogether  irresistiblt*. 

Mr.  Choate  was  from  boyhood  a  serious  think  pr, 
and  a  believer  in  the  truth  of  Christianity,  then 
1  do  not  know  that  he  ever  became  a  memljer  of 
any  particular  church.  But  the  extreme  sensi- 
tiveness, so  characteristic  of  him,  often  led  him  to 
parry  playfully  any  attempt  on  the  part  of  the 
over-zealous  to  draw  him  into  conversj'tion  on  re- 
ligious subjects.  A  prominent  Christian  gentle- 
man was  once  making  an  earnest  effort  in  that 
way,  and  he  prefaced  his  remarks  by  referring  to 
a  recent  instance  of  gross  depravity,  adding,  "•  Ah ! 
Mr.  Choate,  this  is  a  very  sinful  world  !  "  "  Yes, 
it  is,"  replied  Mr.  Choate,  "  and  they  say  it  will 
all  burn  up  some  day — what  do  you  think?" 
accompanying  his  answer  with  an  irresistibly  lu- 
dicrous expression  of  countenance  ;  the  conversa- 
tion ending  with  a  hearty  laugh  on  both  sides. 

I  should  say  that  one  of  Choate's  most  remark- 
able traits  of  character  was  his  unresting,  unflag- 
ging industry,  coupled  with  a  readiness  to  make 


^      '! 


k 


382 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


any  and  every  sacrifice  of  his  own  likings  or  en- 
joyment to  the  one  great  object  of  securing  the 
highest  position  in  his  profession.  This  was  with 
him  no  vulgar  ambition,  but  simply  a  love  of,  and 
a  desire  for,  perfection.  I  am  not  able  to  add 
more  at  this  time. 

I  am,  my  dear  sir,  very  truly  yours, 

GEO.  P.  MARSH. 
To  Ch.  J.  Neilson. 


Slli! 


]! 


LETTER  FROM  HON.  JOHN  WINSLOW. 


"It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  man  of  genius  is  ever  a 
fountain  of  self-generating  energy ;  whosoever  expends  much  in 
productive  activity  must  take  in  much  by  appropriation ;  —  whence 
comes  what  of  truth  is  in  the  observation  that  genius  is  a  genius 
for  industry."  —  Maudsley. 


' 

P 

1- 

'    "' 

^    ' 

My  opportunities  for  observing  Rufus  Choate 
were  chiefly  when  residing,  in  early  hfe,  in  the 
vicinity  of  Boston.  I  saw  and  heard  him  on  vari- 
ous public  occasions  in  my  youth,  early  manhood, 
and  when  a  student  at  Cambridge  Law  School. 

So  much  has  been  well  said  in  estimation  of 
Choate's  genius  and  attainments  that  I  do  not 
feel  like  adding  a  word  in  that  direction,  except 
to  say  that  his  efforts  on  political  and  forensic 
occasions  profoundly  impressed  me  with  a  sense 
of  his  masterly  attainments,  his  extraordinary 
powers,  and  wonderful  genius.  To  speak  of  his 
genius  as  wonderful  may,  to  one  who  never 
saw  the  man,  appear  extravagant ;  but  it  alwa^'s 
seemed  to  me  that  his  genius,  as  seen  through  his 
public  efforts,  was  wonderful  in  a  very  special 


i,. 


384 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


sense.  Besides  his  liberal  attainments  as  a  scholar 
and  a  lawyer,  and  his  great  natural  abilities,  he 
seemed  to  have  an  added  quality  which  few  have, 
which  stimulated  his  faculties  to  most  vigorous 
and  effective  action.  Sometimes  this  stimulating 
quality  is  called  electricity,  which,  in  our  day  of 
scientific  progress,  is  a  word  implying,  more  than 
ever,  large  force,  and,  in  a  measure,  unrevealed 
power  and  possibilities.  In  referring  to  Choate, 
one  writer  says,  "  When  addressing  a  jury,  his 
whole  frame  was  charged  with  electricity,  and  lit- 
erally quivered  with  emotion."  Another  speaks  of 
"  his  electric  bursts  of  humor." 

A  cool-headed  lawyer,  who  heard  Choate's  fa- 
mous address  before  the  New  England  Society  of 
New  York,  in  1843,  says,  "  It  came  upon  the  au- 
dience like  a  series  of  electric  shocks."  Another 
well-known  writer  speaks  of  Choate's  *' magnetic 
individuality^"  We  thus  find  Choate  reminding 
observers  of  electricity,  electric  bursts,  electric 
shocks,  and  magnetic  batteries  generally. 

We  are  beginning  to  feel  that  it  is  not  easy  to 
limit  what  may  be  done  with  electricity.  When 
Franklin  drew  it  from  the  sky  on  a  kite-string,  it 
was  thought  marvelous.  Since  that  day  we  have 
seen  it  guided  in  the  storm,  used  in  medicine,  and 
become  the  obedient  servant  of  man,  who  sends 
his  message  by  means  of  it  around  the  world. 


im 


SCIENCE  IN  DISGUISE. 


385 


of 


and 
lends 
lorld. 


In  later  time  it  comes  as  a  means  of  brilliant 
light,  and  has  been  proposed,  though  not  suc- 
cessfully, as  a  means,  through  nice  adjustments, 
to  relieve,  as  was  hoped,  an  afflicted  nation,  by 
informing  it  of  the  locus  of  the  dreaded  bullet  in 
the  body  of  our  late  beloved  President.  Edison 
and  kindred  spirits  are  at  work  developing  the 
capacities  of  the  telephone  by  the  phonograph ; 
and  an  Electrical  Congress  was  lately  in  session  in 
Paris,  where,  among  many  wonders,  was  exhibited 
an  electric  railway  and  a  micro tasimeter,  which  is 
so  delicate  that  it  will  measure  the  calorific  rays 
emitted  by  the  fixed  stars.  What  will  come  of 
these  things  who  can  tell  ? 

We  hear  accounts  of  the  late  discovery  by  M. 
Faure,  who  has  invented  an  accumulator  of  elec- 
tricity, a  sort  of  storage  arrangement,  the  possible 
uses  of  which  may  not  be  limited  to  medicine  and 
to  the  arts,  but  may  touch  some  new  and  impor- 
tant problems. 

So,  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Choate,  I  feel  like  insist- 
ing that  in  some  mysterious  way  he  anticipated 
M.  Faure,  and  was,  in  fact,  an  accumulator  and 
storehouse  of  that  subtile  force  or  source  of  en- 
ergy we  call  electricity,  which  surcharged  his 
brain  and  every  nerve  to  an  extraordinary  de- 
gree, and  so  helped  him,  with  striking  effect,  to 
display  his  masterly  genius. 

25 


386 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


Some  have  claimed  that  the  "eager  and  nip- 
ping air"  of  New  England,  especially  in  the  re- 
gion of  Boston,  has  unusual  vitalizing  power  in 
stimulating  nerve  and  brain.  However  this  may 
be,  or  to  what  extent  the  sensitive  temperament 
of  Choate  may  have  been  affected  by  it,  must  be 
left  to  conjecture. 

To  see  Choate  in  one  of  his  imaginative  flights, 
or  when  making  an  impassioned  appeal  in  his  best 
strength  for  client  or  party,  was  a  privilege  to  be 
long  and  gratefully  remembered. 

When  referring  to  criticisms  by  lawyers  and 
others  of  Choate' s  elocution  and  style,  Mr.  Web- 
ster said,  "  There  is  no  man  in  the  world  besides 
Choate  who  could  succeed  with  that  style.  It  is 
his  own.  It  is  peculiar  to  him.  It  is  as  natural 
to  him  as  any  constitutional  trait  about  him.  No- 
body can  imitate  him.  He  imitates  nobody,  and 
his  style  is  most  effective." 

Choate  was  a  diligent  student.  Great  and  brill- 
iant as  were  his  talents,  his  success  was  largely 
due  to  his  profound  and  constant  studies.  Some 
one  has  said  his  genius  was  mainly  "  science  in 
disguise."  If  by  this  is  meant  that  his  culture 
was  large,  unremitting,  and  generous,  from  which 
he  drew  effectively  in  his  forensic  and  other 
public  performances,  it  is  true. 

My  first  remembrance  of  Choate  in  politics  was 


m 


|i|     «; 


POLITICAL  DISCUSSIONS. 


387 


in  the  memorable  campaign  of  1840,  when  the 
prevailing  cry  was  "  Tippecanoe  and  Tyler  too." 
The  canvass  was  very  spirited,  and,  as  the  result 
showed,  quite  one-sided.  A  notable  Whig  meet- 
ing, showing  the  temper  and  spirit  of  the  cam- 
paign, was  held  at  Bunker  Hill,  in  September. 
The  gathering  of  people  was  tremendous,  and 
their  enthusiasm  immense.  There  was  a  proces- 
sion four  miles  long,  in  which  were  large  delega- 
tions from  various  States,  with  many  banners.  I 
remember  one  delegation  of  several  hundred  men 
from  Louisiana.  This  delegation,  on  its  march 
in  the  afternoon  back  to  Boston,  encountered  a 
drenching  rain-storm,  and  one  of  the  men,  per- 
haps a  printer,  extemporized  a  banner  to  suit 
the  occasion,  upon  which  were  quickly  printed 
the  words,  "Any  rain  but  the  reign  of  Matty 
Van  Buren."  There  were  on  the  rostrum  at 
Bunker  Hill  many  leading  men,  and  Webster, 
who  was  the  principal  orator,  spoke  in  ponder- 
ous majesty.  Choate  spoke  in  the  evening  in 
Boston,  and  was  received  with  great  favor  and 
applause.  He  was  all  aglow,  full  of  fire  and 
action  such  as  no  other  man  did  or  could  ex- 
hibit. Catching  the  spirit  of  the  occasion,  as  he 
stood  there  addressing  the  people  with  a  mind 
freighted  with  serious  thought,  and  occasionally 
making  some  apt  reference  to  Bunker  Hill  and  its 


:il 


|1'. 


:M' 


I 


388 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


patriotic  associations,  it  was  evident  that  Choate 
was  then  and  there  the  favorite  orator,  at  least  of 
New  England,  if  not  of  the  whole  country. 

Referring  to  another  political  occasion,  I  re- 
member to  have  heard  Choate  at  Concord,  in  1844, 
on  the  fourth  day  of  July,  when  there  was  a  large 
gathering  brought  together  to  espouse-  the  elec- 
tion of  Henry  Clay.  Webster  and  Berrien  and 
Winthrop  and  Greeley  and  Lawrence  were  there. 
Choate  was  in  good  condition,  and  hopeful  of 
victory.  He  referred  to  South  Carolina,  with 
tremulous  gesture,  as  the  "  Palmetto  State,"  and, 
with  regretful  feeling,  alluded  to  her  career  as  a 
nuUifier  of  the  tariff  laws  in  Jackson's  term.  He 
advocated  a  protective  tariff,  and  wanted  to  know, 
in  his  effective  manner,  whether  the  Free  Traders 
would  carry  their  doctrine  so  far  as  to  make  us  de- 
pendent upon  foreign  nations  for  the  gunpowder 
we  might  have  to  use  in  our  defense  against  for- 
eign aggression.  Among  other  speakers,  Horace 
Greeley  followed  Choate,  under  the  big  tent.  I 
remember  Greeley's  white  pants,  somewhat  col- 
ored by  green  grass,  also  his  peculiar  voice  and 
intonation,  and  manner  generally.  He  com- 
menced and  continued  in  a  quiet,  thoughtful 
way,  but  as  one  who  had  something  worth  say- 
ing to  the  people.  He  was  listened  to  atten- 
tively, as  he  deserved  to  be. 


TOWN  GOVERNMENT. 


389 


Probably  no  two  speakers  could  be  more  unlike 
in  style,  manner,  and  action,  than  Horace  Greeley 
and  Rufus  Choate. 

I  heard  Choate  again  on  an  occasion  not  politi- 
cal. It  was  when  he  delivered  his  famous  lecture 
on  the  Sea,  before  a  literary  association  in  a  large 
hall.  He  seemed  full  of  his  wild  subject,  and 
swayed  the  audience  with  eloquence,  as  the  storm 
sways  the  sea.  The  impression  left  upon  me  by 
this  performance  is  as  if  I  had  listened  to  a  breezy, 
reverent  poem,  descriptive  of  the  mighty  power  of 
the  sea,  and  what  may  be  encountered  there  in 
calm  or  in  storm.  His  manner  was  very  impres- 
sive. The  tone  of  the  discourse  was  in  the  main 
serious,  and  in  the  spirit  of  Bryant,  who  says,  — 

"  The  sea  is  mighty,  but  a  mightier  sways 
His  restless  billows." 

All  regret  that  the  manuscript  of  this  thrilling  lec- 
ture was  lost. 

I  heard  Choate  again  on  a  winter  evening  in 
1851,  on  a  very  quiet  and  undemonstrative  occa- 
sion. The  place  was  the  Massachusetts  Senate 
Chamber,  and  his  audience  a  Senate  committee 
and  a  few  others.  The  special  topic  was  a  pro- 
posed separation  of  West  Roxbury  from  Roxbury, 
which  would  create  a  new  town  government. 
Choate  was  retained  to  support  the  measure,  and, 
small  in  number  as  was  the  audience,  he  found  in 


F 

I 


390 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


his  topic  enough  to  arouse  his  enthusiasm.  He 
made  an  eloquent  plea  for  towns  and  town  gov- 
ernments, and  the  usefulness  and  glory  thereof. 
He  insisted  that  they  are  important  factors  in  ed- 
ucational growth,  especially  in  what  pertains  to 
state  and  national  interests,  and  that  their  contin- 
uance was  essential  to  the  welfare  of  the  country. 
In  this  argument,  Choate,  as  was  his  habit,  treated 
his  subject  as  thoroughly  and  eloquently  as  if  ad- 
dressing a  large  audience. 

In  the  year  1847,  when  the  breach  was  more 
apparent  than  before  in  Massachusetts  between 
the  Conscience  and  the  Cotton  Whigs,  the  for- 
mer had  hopes  that  both  Choate  and  Webster 
would  soon  become  identified  with  them.  In  this 
chapter  of  political  history,  there  was  a  memorable 
day  in  Faneuil  Hall,  in  September,  when  I  was 
present  as  a  spectator,  and  which  may  properly  be 
referred  to  here,  as  illustrative  of  the  political  at- 
mosphere of  the  period.  The  Whig  State  Conven- 
tion was  in  session,  and  many  leading  men  of  both 
sides  were  there.  The  contest  was,  as  to  the  plat- 
form, whether  it  should  be  conservative  or  of  an 
anti-slavery  type.  Before  it  was  reported,  Sum- 
ner made  a  speech  of  great  power  and  eloquence 
in  favor  of  aggressive  action  against  the  usurpa- 
tion of  the  slave  power.  In  his  speech  he  made 
a  graceful  and  forcible  appeal  to  Mr.  Webster,  and 


w^ 


DANIEL   WEBSTER. 


391 


said,  "  Dedicate,  sir,  the  golden  years  of  experi- 
ence which  are  yet  in  store  for  you  to  removing 
from  your  country  its  greatest  evil.  In  this 
cause  you  shall  find  inspirations  to  eloquence 
higher  than  any  you  have  yet  confessed."  Win- 
throp  was  then  called  out,  and  made  an  able  reply. 
There  were  two  reports  on  the  platform,  as  was 
expected.  Speeches  were  made  by  kStevenson, 
Stephen  C.  Phillips,  Linus  Child,  Charles  Francis 
Adams,  and  Charles  Allen.  The  debate  was  able, 
attended  by  much  excitement,  and  lasted  until 
night.  The  conservatives  became  alarmed,  and 
decided  to  send  for  Webster.  Abbott  Lawrence, 
who  was  a  member  of  the  convention,  soon  ap- 
peared, with  Webster  upon  his  arm,  amid  tremen- 
dous applause.  Both  Conscience  and  Cotton 
joined  in  manifestations  of  respect.  As  Webster 
reached  the  rostrum,  the  applause  was  renewed 
with  great  vigor,  and  the  whole  scene  was  grand 
artd  inspiring.  Webster  took  his  seat,  and  listened 
to  Charles  Allen,  one  of  the  ablest  of  the  Con- 
science men,  who  resumed  and  finished  a  stern 
and  inflexible  speech.  Webster  then  arose,  the 
jonvention  rising  with  him,  and  in  a  short  ad- 
dress made  a  plea  of  great  power  for  harmony. 
A  friend  tells  me  that  Sumner  said  he  knew,  when 
he  saw  "  Black  Dan  "  coming,  it  was  all  up  with 
his  side  that  year.     It  was  in  this  speech  that 


Mil 


.1; 


392 


MEMORIES   OF  RLFUS  CIIOATE. 


Webster's  famous  words  were  uttered  which  Lave 
been  so  widely  quoted.  He  had  been  speaking  of 
his  warm  attachment  to  the  Whig  party,  and  how 
he  loved  to  inhale  its  "  odor  of  liberty."  Then 
followed  the  memorable  words  spoken  in  his 
grandest  and  most  impressive  manner.  "  Others," 
he  said,  "  rely  on  other  foundations  and  other 
hopes  for  the  welfare  of  the  country  ;  but,  for  my 
part,  in  the  dark  and  troubled  night  that  is  on  us, 
I  see  no  star  above  the  horizon  promising  light  to 
guide  us,  but  the  intelligent,  patriotic,  united 
Whig  party  of  the  United  States."  At  this  mo- 
ment every  look  and  gesture  of  the  orator  were  in 
harmony  with  his  thought.  He  seemed  to  speak 
as  if  standing  in  a  dark  background,  his  lustrous 
eyes  looking  above  the  horizon  for  the  star  that 
should  give  the  promised  light  to  guide  the  con- 
vention and  the  people.  The  power  of  the  speech 
and  the  spectacle  was  seen  and  felt  in  the  fact 
that  a  convention  of  turbulent  men,  at  once  sub- 
dued, were  ready  for  adjournment  without  fur- 
ther strife. 

I  heard  Choate  on  several  political  occasions  in 
Faneuil  Hall,  some  of  which  are  memorable.  It 
will  be  remembered  that  Webster  delivered  his 
famous,  and,  according  to  his  opponents  of  that 
day,  infamous,  7th  of  March  speech  in  the  Senate, 
in  1850,  the  tone  of  which  was  compromise  with 


FANEUIL  HALL  REFUSED. 


393 


the  South  for  the  sake  of  peace  and  the  Union. 
Choate  was  in  full  sympathy  with  Webster,  as 
may  be  seen  in  his  political  speeches  of  tliat  pe- 
riod. In  April,  1851,  Webster,  who  was  on  a  short 
visit  to  Marshfield,  was  invited  by  many  citizens 
of  Boston  to  a  public  reception  in  Faneuil  Hall. 
Mr.  Choate  was  to  address  him  for  the  citizens. 
Great  indignation  was  aroused  by  the  refusal  of 
the  mayor  and  aldermen  to  allow  the  use  of  the 
hall  for  the  proposed  meeting.  The  reason  given 
was  that  Wendell  Phillips  and  the  Abolitionists 
having  been  refused  the  use  of  the  hall  for  fear 
of  a  riot,  they  could  not  consistently  grant  the 
hall  to  any  one  else.  Webster  and  his  friends, 
particularly  Choate,  were  very  indignant.  A  good 
many  things  were  said  and  done  to  set  the  matter 
right.  Choate  was  very  active,  and  wished  Mr. 
Webster  to  know  that  the  action  of  the  city  au- 
thorities did  not  represent  the  citizens  or  the  best 
sentiment  of  Boston.  Choate  sent  friends  to 
Marshfield  to  so  assure  Mr.  Webster,  among  whom 
were  Peter  Harver  and  Fletcher  Webster,  the  lat- 
ter taking  a  letLci'  from  Choate.  Webster  said 
sadly  to  Harvey,  "  Fletcher  came  down  and  mere- 
ly told  me  the  bald  fact  that  the  city  government 
had  refused  the  hall,  and  brought  me  a  note  from 
Choate  which  I  could  not  read.  By  the  way,  tell 
Mr.  Choate  to  write   better;   his  handwriting  is 


hi 


394 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATK. 


Pi' 


II 


barbarous.  I  could  not  read  a  single  word. 
There  is  tlie  letter;  ]M?'-  ^ook  at  it;  tell  Choate  to 
go  to  a  writing-school^  .A  take  a  quarter's  les- 
sons." Webster  finally  wrote  a  letter,  which  was 
much  admired  by  his  friends,  to  the  coinniittee 
who  invited  him,  in  which  he  said,  "  I  shall  defer 
my  visit  to  Faneuil  Hall,  the  cradle  of  American 
liberty,  until  its  doors  .shall  fly  open  on  golden 
hinges  to  lovers  of  Union  as  well  as  lovers  of 
Liberty." 

In  the  next  year,  on  a  spring  afternoon,  "  When 
the  May  sun  sheds  an  a  'ber  light,"  Webster  ap- 
peared in  Faneuil  Hall  kindly  reception  ten- 
dered him  by  citizens  of  both  parties.  This  was 
soon  after  his  carriage  accident.  He  was  quite 
unwell,  and  much  affected  by  the  exhibition  of 
general  kindness  and  respect.  How  well  I  re- 
member his  appearance  when  he  thundered,  "  This 
is  Faneuil  Hall  —  Open." 

In  the  year  1850,  and  soon  after,  many  large 
union  meetings,  so-called,  were  held  in  various 
parts  of  the  country  in  support  of  the  compromise 
measures  of  1850.  There  were  several  held  in 
Faneuil  Hall,  where  such  men  as  Webster,  Choate, 
Curtis,  Winthrop,  and  Ashman  addressed  the  peo- 
ple. I  was  present  at  one  in  November  of  1851. 
I  think,  when  Hon.  B.  R.  Curtis,  then  an  emi- 
nent member  of   the  Boston  bar,  and  afterwards 


ARGYLL'S   THEORY 


395 


Judge  of  the  United  States  Supreine  Court,  and 
Choatc  spoke.  The  hall  was  clos>ely  packed  by 
intelligent  men  standing,  and  there  was  much 
excitement.  Curtis,  who  presided,  led  oft'  in  a 
calm,  logical  speech,  and  Choate  followed.  I  shall 
attempt  no  statement  of  what  hr"  said.  It  was  a 
fervent  appeal  to  the  country,  especially  to  the 
North,  to  stand  by  the  Union  in  the  spirit  of  sac- 
rifice and  concession.  In  the  course  of  his  ar- 
gument, the  views  of  men  like  Charles  Francis 
Adams,  Henry  Wilson,  and  Charles  Sumner,  who 
were  then  at  the  front  of  the  anti-slavery  hosts, 
got  some  hard  knocks.  I  was  sitting  very  near 
Clioato,  on  the  side  of  the  famous  rostrum,  and 
shall  not  forget  one  of  his  gestures.  He  had 
reached  in  high  heat  the  climax  of  his  speech, 
when,  under  great  excitement,  almost  frenzy, 
upon  emphasizing  his  final  point,  he  quickly  bent 
forward  and  downward  so  that  his  curling  hair 
nearly  touched  the  floor.  In  an  instant  he  was 
erect  again,  his  whole  appearance  intensely  ner- 
vous and  magnetic,  and  drew  from  the  vast  au- 
dience round  after  round  of  applause,  and  cheers. 

The  Duke  of  Argyll,  in  his  treatise  on  "  The 
Reign  of  Law,"  presents  a  view  which  may  in 
some  measure  explain  Mr.  Choate  in  action  as  an 
orator  :  — 

When,  through   the  motor  nerves,  the  will 


\ 


u 


396 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


S 
U- 


I 


orders  the  muscles  into  action,  that  order  is  en- 
forced by  a  discharge  of  the  electric  force,  and 
upon  this  discharge,  the  contractile  force  is  set 
free  to  act,  and  does  accordingly  produce  the  con- 
traction which  is  desired.  Such  is,  at  least,  one 
suggestion  as  to  the  means  employed  to  place 
human  action  under  the  control  of  the  human 
will,  in  that  material  frame  which  is  so  wonder- 
fully and  fearfully  made.  And  whether  this  hy- 
pothesis be  accurate  or  not,  it  is  certain  that  some 
such  adjustment  of  Force  to  Mechanism  is  in- 
volved in  every  bodily  movement  which  is  subject 
to  the  will."  Whether  all  or  any  of  this  is  apjili- 
cable  to,  or  accounts  for,  the  appearance  of  Mr. 
Choate  in  action,  in  court,  or  on  the  rostrum,  is 
the  question  submitted. 

If  "  every  bodily  movement "  of  the  great  ora- 
tor, "  subject  to  the  will,"  can  thus  be  explained, 
he  at  least  was  probably  innocent  of  all  knowl- 
edge of  the  law  that  "  through  the  motor  nerves 
the  will  orders  the  muscles  into  action,"  "  by  a 
discharge  of  the  electric  force,"  in  the  manner 
stated. 

In  July  of  1851,  Choate  delivered  an  oration 
before  the  Story  Association  of  Cambridge  Law 
School,  of  whose  graduating  cl?iss  I  was  a  member. 
A  procession  was  formed,  which  marched  to  the 
church   where   the   address  was   delivered.     My 


OPIUM  AGAINST  ELECTRICITY. 


397 


place  in  the  procession  happened  to  be  next  to  tlie 
orator.  As  showing  of  what  flimsy  stuff  history  is 
sometimes  made,  I  may  in  this  connection  give  an 
incident.  There  was  more  or  less  vay-iie  hinting 
that  the  great  orator  was  occasionally  addicted  to 
the  use  of  opium.  Some  were  inclined  to  explain 
his  nervous  action  and  great  excitement,  when 
speaking,  by  the  opium  theory.  As  the  proces- 
sion was  waiting  for  its  march,  Clioate  took  from 
his  vest  pocket  some  small  particle  and  put  it  into 
his  mouth.  "  Do  you  see  that,"  whispered  a  by- 
stander, "  Choate  is  getting  ready  for  his  speech  ; 
he  has  just  taken  some  opium."  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  remark  of  the  wiseacre  would  have 
been  as  just  if  made  of  the  Rev.  Obadiah  Smith, 
or  some  other  solemn  personage  who  by  chance 
might  have  attracted  attention  in  a  similar  way. 
Eather  than  encourage  the  opium  scandal,  I  pre- 
ferred to  rest  my  theory  upon  electricity,  or  Bos- 
ton east  wind,  as  the  motive  power  that  inspired 
the  great  orator  as  no  other  man  of  the  time  w'as 
inspired. 

The  topic  of  the  oration  in  the  church  was  obe- 
dience and  respect  for  law  as  essential  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  Union,  which  is  to  be  preferred 
beyond  and  above  all  things  else  as  a  means  of 
political  salvation  for  the  country.  He  made  an 
elaborate  and  eloquent  appeal  to  the  young  men 


398 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


!■    li 


of  the  Law  School  to  throw  their  personal  and  po- 
litical influence  for  the  conservative  side  of  the 
great  conflict  which  he  seemed  to  feel,  almost  as 
a  prophet,  was  imminent.  His  appeal,  like  Web- 
ster's, was  "  to  lovers  of  Union  as  well  as  to  lovers 
of  Liberty." 

It  was  my  good  fortune  to  see  Choate  in  court 
engaged  in  trials  on  various  occasions.  It  is  not 
worth  while,  perhaps,  to  state  in  detail  what  I 
saw  and  heard  on  such  occasions.  In  every  case 
he  seemed  to  be  absorbed  for  his  client's  cause. 
There  was  no  case  in  his  hands,  especially  before 
a  jury,  that  he  did  not  make  a  thing  of  life,  and 
of  profound  interest. 

Many  anecdotes  and  incidents  of  Choate  as  a 
lawyer  in  the  courts  have  been  given,  some  of 
which,  I  trust,  will  find  a  place  in  this  book.  I 
happened  in  court  one  Saturday,  in  Boston,  when 
Choate  had  charge  of  a  case  that  involved  some 
improvement  in  the  handling  of  cotton.  In  the 
course  of  a  very  spirited  argument  to  the  jury, 
he  took  occasion  to  discuss  our  agricultural  and 
manufacturing  resources  as  cooperative  in  develop- 
ing the  country  and  promoting  general  prosperity. 
He  made  a  masterly  and  interesting  statement  of 
his  view,  which  was  in  itself  broad  statesmanship. 

When  he  brought  forward  somnambulism  as  a 
defense  in  part  for  his  client,  Tirrell,  who  was  in- 


fi 


'I  i 


ANECDOTES. 


399 


dieted  for  murder,  there  were  many  good  women 
and  children,  not  to  speak  of  "  the  rest  of  man- 
kind," who  thought  the  defense  very  absurd,  if 
not  very  wicked.  The  jury,  however,  thought 
otherwise. 

I  am  indebted  to  a  prominent  citizen  of  Brook- 
lyn, a  native  of  Salem,  where  Choate  studied  law, 
fcr  the  following.  Leverett  Saltonstall,  who  was 
an  able  and  noted  Massachusetts  Federalist,  was 
not  an  admirer  of  the  irrepressible  Caleb  Cusiiing, 
then  a  rising  man  in  his  region.  Gushing,  though 
a  younger  man  than  Saltonstall,  was  considered 
his  rival,  and  rumor  was  afloat  to  the  effect  that 
Cushing's  wife  had  written  and  published  in  a 
newspaper  a  very  eulogistic  article  about  her  hus- 
band, which  rumor  Saltonstall  was  willing  to  be- 
lieve. Choate  at  this  time  was  a  young  lawyer  in 
Saltonstall's  office  in  Sa^em.  One  morning  while 
at  his  desk,  S.  rushed  in  excitedly  and  exclaimed, 
"  Cushing  is  dead  and  buried,  —  dead  and  bi^ried." 
"  Dead  !  "  said  Choate  —  "  and  buried  !  When  ? 
where  ?  "  "  Lead  and  buried !  "  cried  Saltonstall. 
"  Well,"  said  ' 'hoate,  "  you  don't  tell  me  when  he 
died  or  where  he  is  buried  ;  but  I  '11  venture  he  is 
not  buried  so  deep  but  what  he  '11  sprout." 

I  am  also  indebted  to  a  gentleman,  now  of 
Brooklyn,  formerly  of  Boston,  who  was  a  client  of 
Choate's,  for  the  following :  The  client  had  been 


i't 


t'l ' 


400 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


I 


consulting  Choate  in  litigations  concerning  some 
vessels  about  to  arrive  at  New  York.  One  day 
the  client  said,  "  Mr.  Choate,  the  vessels  will  soon 
arrive  in  New  York,  and  I  am  going  there  to  re- 
side. Now,  what  lawyer  do  you  think  of  that  you 
would  advise  me  to  consult  in  this  matter  ? " 
"  Let  me  see,"  said  Choate.  Then  turning  to  his 
partner,  he  said,  "  Crowninshield,  what  is  the 
name  of  that  young  lawyer  in  Ne  v  York,  who  did 
so  well  in  defending  Monroe  Edwards,  and  had  a 
counterfeit  ^1,000  bill  put  on  him  for  his  fee  ?  " 
"  His  name  is  Evarts,"  said  Crowninshield.  "  Yes," 
said  Choate,  "  Evarts,  he  is  the  man  for  you.  Em- 
ploy him." 

Is  not  this  an  instance,  in  re  Evarts,  of  coming 
events  casting  their  shadows  before  ?  Choate 
must  have  felt  the  coming  greatness  of  New 
York's  distinguished  lawyer. 

A  few  days  previous  to  Choate's  oration  before 
the  Story  Association  at  Cambridge,  to  which 
I  have  referred,  Choate  was  under  discussion  at 
the  Law  Library  among  a  group  of  a  dozen  stu- 
dents. The  conversation  turned  chiefly  upon  the 
comparative  merits  of  Choate  and  Brougham,  as 
lawyers  and  orators.  I  remember  how  ardently 
one  of  the  students,  of  rather  mature  years, 
from  the  Southwest,  insisted  that  Choate  was 
the  greater  lawyer  and  orator,  and   referred  to 


INCIDENTS. 


401 


cases  and  occasions  in  the  career  of  each  to 
prove  his  position.  There  was  a  disposition  to  ac- 
quiesce  in  the  view  that  Choate  was  the  supe- 
rior. While  this  circumstance  is  not  decisive,  it  is 
useful  as  showing  how  deep  an  impression  Choate 
was  then  making  upon  appreciative  minds. 

The  late  Mr.  Somerby  was  a  distinguished  mem- 
ber of  the  Boston  bar,  and  was  frequently  asso- 
ciated with  Choate  in  the  trial  of  causes.  He  was 
an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Choate,  and  one  day, 
while  riding  with  a  friend  through  Mount  Auburn 
Cemetery,  took  off  his  hat  at  a  certain  spot  with 
so  reverent  an  air  that  his  companion  asked  him 
the  reason:  Mr.  Somerby  pointed  to  a  grave 
near  by,  and  said,  "  There  is  the  grave  of  Rufus 
Choate.  The  man  who  goes  by  that  grave  with- 
out taking  off  his  hat  is  not  fit  to  live  on  earth." 

In  his  intercourse  with  the  bar,  Mr.  Choate, 
though  resolute,  was  disposed  to  be  kind  and 
courteous.  One  day  I  saw  him  engaged  in  court, 
in  Boston,  in  a  jury  trlul  involving  some  question 
of  patent  right  in  a  rifle.  One  of  his  adversaries 
was  a  well-known  lawyer  of  the  New  York  bar, 
who  seemed  to  be  very  earnest  and  pronounced 
in  his  ways  and  methods.  He  was  quite  an  ex- 
pert in  his  knowledge  of  fire-arms,  and  handled 
the  rifle  as  if  familiar  with  its  use.  He  would 
hold  and  aim  it  as  if  about  to  fire  in  the  court- 

8G 


402 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


room.  Choate  did  not  shine  in  that  way.  In 
the  course  of  the  trial,  his  New  York  adversary 
made  some  abrupt  and  impolite  remark  to  Choate 
as  to  the  admissibility  of  certain  evidence.  In 
reply,  Choate,  who  was  evidently  not  pleased  with 
the  remark,  noticed  it  by  referring,  in  a  sombre 
way,  to  the  learned  counsel  from  New  York, 
whom  he  could  not  call  his  brother. 

A  Plymouth  friend  sends  me  the  following  : 
A  gentleman  was  in  his  study  one  day,  and  Mr. 
Choate,  who  had  a  closet  in  which  he  kept  bottles 
and  glasses  and  ice-water,  had  taken  out  his  de- 
canter, and  was  enjoying  a  social  glass  (a  thing, 
by  the  way,  which  he  did  very  rarely,  and  with 
great  moderation),  when  he  heard  some  one  com- 
ing up  the  stairs,  and,  expecting  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Adams,  he  suddenly  and  hastily  gathered  all  the 
implements,  thrust  them  into  the  closet,  and  shut 
it,  when  his  library  door  opened,  and,  instead  of 
Dr.  Adams,  there  appeared  before  him  his  friend, 
Mr.  Peter  Harvey.  "  Why,  Harvey  !  is  that  yor.  ? 
I  thought  it  was  a  Presbyterian  foot-fall."  And 
he  immediately  replaced  the  paraphernalia  so 
suddenly  hidden  from  sight. 

A  Boston  gentleman  says,  "  On  one  evening, 
when  Mr.  Brough  and  others  gave  a  concert  in 
Boston,  my  informant  was  one  of  the  last  comers 
of  a  crowded  audience,  and  consequently  had  to 


ANECDOTES. 


403 


take  his  seat  near  the  door,  and  as  far  as  the 
dimensions  of  the  hall  would  permit  from  the 
singers'  platform.  He  was  happy  to  find  himself 
seated  next  to  Mr.  Choate.  At  a  late  period  of 
the  performance,  Mr.  Brough  came  upon  the  stage, 
and  comported  himself  so  oddly  that  my  friend 
said  to  Mr.  Choate,  'I  think  the  man  must  be 
drunk.'  ^  I  smelled  his  breath  the  moment  he 
came  upon  the  stage,'  replied  Choate." 

He  once  passed  the  night  at  the  once  famous 
inn  of  Mrs.  Nicholson,  in  Plymouth,  —  a  some- 
what rambling  house,  in  which  the  only  room 
not  necessarily  used  as  a  passage-way  to  other 
rooms  was  occupied  by  Justice  Wilde  of  the 
Supreme  Court.  Most  of  the  members  of  the 
Plymouth  bar,  inmates  of  the  house,  including 
Eddy,  Coffin,  Baylies,  Packard,  and  Young,  were 
playing  cards  until  a  late  hour.  At  breakfast, 
Justice  Wilde,  whose  Puritanical  manner  was  not 
unmixed  with  humor,  knowing  well  the  situa- 
tion of  things,  said,  "  Well,  Mr.  Choate,  I  sup- 
pose you  slept  well  ?  "  "  Admirably,  your  Honor, 
except  that  I  slept  in  the  highway,"  replied  Mr. 
Choate. 

I  remember  hearing  Mr.  Choate  defend  the 
master  of  the  schooner  Sally  Ann,  tried  in  the 
United  States  Court,  in  Boston,  on  a  charge  of 
casting  away  his  vessel,  in  defraud  of  the  under- 


404 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE. 


writers,  on  the  coast  of  St.  Domingo.  The  jury 
had  disagreed  in  a  former  trial,  conducted  by 
District  Attorney  Robert  Rantoul,  Jr.  George 
Lunt,  appointed  his  successor,  had  secured  ad- 
ditional testimony,  with,  as  he  thought,  a  cer- 
tainty of  conviction.  The  testimony  on  both 
sides  was  closed ;  and,  during  a  short  recess  taken 
before  the  arguments,  Mr.  Choate,  in  passing 
through  the  entry,  accidentally  overheard  the 
colored  cook  of  the  vessel,  who  had  been  called 
as  a  government  witness,  but  not  used,  speak  of 
the  captain's  crying  when  he  left  his  vessel  and 
took  to  his  boat.  Choate  hurried  into  court, 
and,  with  great  impressiveness,  asked  permission 
to  put  in  an  important  piece  of  testimony,  which 
had  only  at  that  moment  come  to  his  knowledge. 
With  the  permission  of  the  judge,  the  cook  was 
called ;  and,  in  reply  to  the  question  of  Mr.  Choate 
as  to  the  deportment  of  the  master  on  leaving  his 
vessel,  said,  "  He  cried  like  a  child."  "  That  is 
all,"  said  Mr.  Choate  ;  and,  with  this  single  straw 
of  sentiment  to  save  his  case,  his  appeals  to  the 
jury  were  so  pathetic  that  a  verdict  of  acquittal 
followed,  wrung  out  of  the  chords  in  the  human 
heart,  which  he  knew  so  well  how  to  touch,  and 
which  resented  the  idea  that  a  man  could  cry  over 
the  loss  of  his  dear  Sally  Ann  if  he  were  guilty  of 
her  destruction. 


INCIDENT  IN  COURT, 


405 


I  am  indebted  to  a  venerable  and  learned  mem- 
ber of  the  Boston  bar  for  the  following :  — 

One  day,  at  the  close  of  the  testimony  In  an 
important  trial  in  a  civil  action,  in  which  Mr. 
Choate  was  engaged  before  the  Supreme  Court, 
at  Dedham,  Judge  Shaw  said  he  did  not  think 
there  was  any  question  of  fact  to  submit  to  the 
jury,  and  the  better  course  would  be  to  take  a 
verdict  pro  forma,  and  reserve  the  law  questions 
for  the  full  bench.  Then,  turning  to  Mr.  Choate, 
the  judge  said, "  Mr.  Choate,  upon  the  view  sug- 
gested, if  agreeable  to  you,  I  will  order  a  verdict 
against  your  client."  Choate  stepped  forward, 
and,  bowing  in  his  fine  manner,  gravely  replied  : 
"  If  your  Honor  please,  as  to  whether  the  course 
you  propose  will  be  agreeable  to  me,  I  desire  to 
say  that  I  do  not  remember  any  case  ever  in  my 
charge  wherein  I  would  not  have  found  it  agree- 
able to  have  a  verdict  in  favor  of  my  client." 
The  reply  and  Choate's  inimitable  manner  caused 
much  merriment  among  the  lawyers  and  spec- 
tators. 

The  late  Vice-President  Wilson  —  a  name  likely 
to  grow  in  importance  in  American  political  his- 
tory —  was,  I  think,  a  warm  admirer  of  the  genius 
and  eloquence  of  Rufus  Choate,  though  not  of  his 
entire  political  course.  I  remember  meeting  Mr. 
Wilson  (whom  I  knew  as  a  life-long  friend)  soon 


i       : 


406 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   C  HO  ATE. 


after  the  Whig  National  Convention  that  nomi- 
nated General  Scott,  in  1852,  at  Baltimore. 
Choate  was  there,  strenuously  advocating  the 
nomination  of  Mr.  Webster.  In  speaking  of  the 
convention,  Wilson  said  that  Choate  made  an 
ingenious  and  brilliant  speech  for  Webster,  upon 
the  basis  of  accepting  the  compromise  measure 
of  1850  as  a  finality,  and  that  there  was  no 
orator  in  the   convention  that  equaled  Choate. 

In  his  work  entitled  "  Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Slave 
Power  in  America,"  Mr.  Wilson,  in  referring  to 
the  resolutions  introduced  by  Mr.  Ashman,  which 
were  believed  to  be  in  harmony  with  Mr.  Web- 
ster's views,  speaks  of  "  the  impassioned  and  brill- 
iant speech  which  Mr.  Choate  made  on  their  re- 
ception and  in  their  behalf."  Again,  he  states 
in  the  same  work,  that,  "  In  answer  to  vociferous 
calls,  Mr.  Choate  addressed  the  convention  in  a 
speech  of  great  forensic  brilliancy  and  force,  in 
which,  however,  was  far  more  apparent  the  spe- 
cial pleading  of  the  advocate  than  the  calm  con- 
sideration of  the  statesman." 

In  the  same  work,  the  author  refers,  in  a  kindly 
way,  to  the  part  taken  by  Mr.  Choate  as  counsel 
for  the  Commonwealth,  in  1836,  when  the  Supreme 
Court  decided,  in  the  case  of  the  slave  child  Med, 
brought  to  that  State  by  its  owner,  "that  an 
owner  of  a  slave  in  another  State  where  slavery  is 


THE  ASHDURTON  TREATY. 


407 


warranted  by  law,  voluntarily  bringing  such  slave 
into  this  State,  has  no  authority  to  retain  hi)n 
against  his  will,  or  carry  him  out  of  the  State 
against  his  consent,  for  the  purpose  of  being  held 
in  slavery."  This  important  opinion,  which  was  so 
much  quoted  in  subsequent  controversies,  was  de- 
livered by  Ch'ef  Justice  Shaw.  Again,  on  the  Otii 
of  August,  1842,  the  Ashburton  Treaty  was  signed 
at  Washington.  It  was  largely  aimed  at  the 
suppression  of  the  slave  trade,  and  required  the 
United  States  to  cooperate  with  an  armed  force 
on  the  coast  of  Africa.  The  treaty  was  bitterly 
assailed  in  the  Senate  by  Mr.  Benton  of  Missouri, 
Mr.  Buclianan,  Mr.  Conrad  of  Louisiana,  and  oth- 
ers. The  latter  said,  "  If  ratified.  Great  Britain 
will  unfurl  the  banner  of  abolition  still  more  con- 
spicuously before  your  slaves.  She  will  accustom 
them  to  consider  her  as  their  benefactor,  the  cham- 
pion of  their  rights,  the  avenger  of  their  wrongs." 
Referring  to  the  hot  debate  in  the  Senate,  and 
characterizing  the  motives  of  the  men  and  news- 
papers that  opposed  the  treaty  (which  was  rati- 
fied), Mr.  Wilson,  in  his  work,  says  that  "  Many 
saw  their  true  spirit,  but  none  more  fitly  described 
them  than  Rufus  Choate,  then  in  the  Senate,  who 
spoke  of  them  as  '  restless,  selfish,  reckless,  the 
cankers  of  a  calm  world  and  a  long  peace,  pining 
with  thirst  of  notoriety,  slaves  to  their  hatred  of 


408 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


England,  to  whom  the  treaty  is  distasteful,  to 
whom  any  treaty  and  all  tilings  but  tlie  glare  and 
clamor,  the  vain  pomp  and  hollow  circumstance, 
the  toil  and  agony  and  inadequate  results  of  war, 
—  all  but  those  would  be  distasteful  and  dreary.' " 

Again,  in  the  same  work,  Mr.  Wilson  refers 
to  Mr.  Choate's  opposition  to  the  joint  resolution 
for  the  annexation  of  Texas  in  1844,  and  says, 
"  Rufus  Choate,  of  Massachusetts,  made  a  brilliant 
and  eloquent  speech  in  opposition,  both  on  the 
ground  of  power  and  expediency.  *  We  could 
not,'  he  contended,  '  admit  Texas  by  the  joint 
resolution  of  the  House,  if  it  would  insure  a  thou- 
sand years  of  liberty  to  the  Union.  If,  like  the 
fabled  garden  of  old,  its  rivers  should  run  pearls, 
and  its  trees  bear  imperial  fruit  of  gold,  —  yet 
even  we  could  not  admit  her,  because  it  would 
be  a  sin  against  the  Constitution.'  " 

In  their  earlier  private  and  public  life,  Sumner 
and  Choate  were  warm  friends,  though  differing 
widely  on  political  questions  in  later  years.  Mr. 
Pierce,  author  of  M(  noirb,  oic.,  of  Sumner,  men- 
tions several  i  its  that  s''ow  this.  As  early 
as  1834,  Sumn  was  brought  into  personal  rela- 
tions with  Choate  wh-  n  he  was  in  Washington,  a 
member  of  the  House,  and  Sumner  wr"^  there  on 
a  professional  errand. 

In  1834,  and  for   several  years  after,  No.  4 


TT 


NO.   4   COURT  STREET. 


409 


Court  Street,  Boston,  must  have  been  an  attract- 
ive place.  There  were  gathered  there,  at  this  pe- 
riod, several  lawyers,  since  well  known,  some  of 
whom  have  achieved  permanent  fame.  On  the 
same  lloor  with  Sumner  and  Ilillard  were  Thcoph- 
ilus  Parsons,  Rufus  Choate,  the  two  Chandlers, 
and  John  A.  Andrew,  afterwards  governor.  On  a 
floor  above  was  Horace  Mann,  who  in  after  years 
displayed  great  ability  as  a  member  of  Congress, 
and  when  in  charge  of  important  educational  in- 
terests. Here  also  were  Edward  G.  Loring  and 
Luther  S.  Cushing.  When  Hillard  left  the  build- 
ing in  1856,  he  wrote  in  verse  a  graceful  ''  Fare- 
well to  Number  Four,"  which  called  forth  some 
happy  rejoinders.  Judge  Story,  Greenleaf,  Fel- 
ton.  Park  Benjamin,  and  George  Bancroft  were 
frequent  callers  at  No.  4,  which  was  thus  closely 
identified  with  the  daily  life  of  Mr.  Choate.  Hil- 
lard, writing  to  Sumner  from  New  York,  in  1836, 
recalls,  in  contrast  with  the  law  offices  of  that 
city,  "  our  cool  and  pleasant  office,  and  the  quiet 
and  cultivated  friends  who  drop  in." 

In  1834-35  we  find  Sumner  and  Choate  with 
Edward  Everett,  Hillard,  and  others,  announced 
in  a  course  of  lectures  before  the  Boston  Lyceum 
at  Boylston  Hall.  In  a  letter  to  Longfellow  in 
August,  1837,  Sumner  refers  to  Choate  in  terms 
of  mutual  friendship.     Mr.  Pierce  says  that  Sum- 


I   i 


410 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


m 


ner  '^much  enjoyed  his  friendly  relations  with 
Rufus  Clioate,  whose  office  was  at  No.  4  Court 
Street.  They  talked  of  politics  and  literature, 
particularly  of  Burke,  for  whom  Mr.  Choate  had 
an  extravagant  admiration.  When  the  latter  was 
in  the  United  States  Senate,  1841-42,  they  treated 
of  the  same  themes  in  correspondence.  Later 
they  were  associated  professionally  in  'uhe  boun- 
dary dispute  between  Massachusetts  and  Rhode 
Island."  In  June,  1841,  Sumner  wrote  Dr.  Lie- 
ber,  "  Choate  will  be  glad  to  renew  his  acquaint- 
ance with  you  ;  his  speech  on  McLeod's  case  is 
masterly."  In  1842,  Sumner  wrote  two  articles 
maintaining  the  qualified  right  of  search,  which 
attracted  much  attention.  Choate,  while  in  the 
Senate,  worked  with  Sumner,  approving  the  posi- 
tion taken.  In  February,  1842,  in  a  letter  to 
Dr.  Lieber,  Sumner  wrote,  •'  I  am  glad  you  like 
Choate  so  well.  His  position  here  is  very  firm. 
He  is  the  leader  of  our  bar,  with  an  overwhelm- 
ing supertluity  of  business,  with  a  strong  taste  for 
books  and  learned  men,  with  great  amiableness  of 
character,  with  uncommon  eloquence  and  untir- 
ing industry."  Again,  in  a  letter  to  Lord  Mor- 
peth, September  6,  1842,  uuching  the  Ashburton 
Treaty,  Sumner  refers  to  what  Choate  thinks  in- 
fluenced the  British  authorities  in  the  matter.  In 
a  letter  to  Dr.  Lieber,  September,  1843,  Sumner 


USE  OF  ADJECTIVES. 


411 


writes,  "  Choate  is  entirely  uncommitted  on  the 
subject  of  international  copyright.  He  has  never 
looked  at  it ;  and,  if  he  sees  his  way  clear  to  be  its 
advocate,  he  will  enter  into  it.  He  asked  me  to 
state  to  him  in  a  few  words  the  argument  on  both 
sides.  I  thought  of  Madame  de  Staiil  and  Fichte, 
—  "  ^  Donnez  moi  vos  idees  en  dix  mots.'  I  did  it, 
and  he  muses  still." 

In  1844,  Perkins  edited  the  American  edition  of 
"  Brown's  Chancery  Reports,"  and  dedicated  it  to 
Mr.  Choate.  Sumner  wrote  to  Perkins,  "  Your 
dedication  cannot  fail  to  give  great  pleasure  to 
Mr.  Choate.  It  is  a  beautiful,  and,  I  think,  a  well 
deserved,  tribute  from  a  former  pupil.  It  is  with 
hesitation  that  I  venture  to  touch  rudely  what  is 
chiseled  so  carefully.  But,  as  a  general  rule,  it 
seems  to  me  that  one  cannot  be  too  abstemious  of 
adjectives  in  an  inscription  which  should  be  close 
and  lapidary  in  its  character."  While  Sumner's 
view  is  doubtless  correct,  it  may  be  that  "  adjec- 
tives," even  in  an  inscription,  did  not  worry 
Choate,  who  knew  how  to  marshal  them  in  lonjjc 
array  ;  as,  for  instance,  the  following,  when  he 
spoke  of  a  harness  as  "  a  safe,  sound,  substantial, 
suitable,  second-rate,  second-hand  harness,"  or 
spoke  of  the  Greek  mind  as  "  subtle,  mysterious, 
plastic,  apprehensive,  comprehensive,  available." 

Mr.    Choate   felt  a  proper   reverence   for  the 


412 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


things  that  belong  to  religion.  Whether  he  be- 
lieved in  a  creed,  in  a  technical,  Cal  vinistic  sense, 
is  doubtful.  But  that  he  had  a  deep  religious 
nature,  which  found  expression  in  various  ways, 
there  can  be  no  doubt. 

My  cousin,  the  late  Rev.  Hubbard  Winslow, 
who  for  several  years  was  pastor  of  the  Bowdoin 
Street  Church,  in  Boston,  was  an  admiring  and 
warm  friend  of  both  Webster  and  Choate,  and 
received  from  them  many  tokens  of  reciprocal 
regard.  I  visited  Marshfield,  in  1862,  with  Dr. 
Winslow,  at  the  Webster  mansion,  when  I  saw,  in 
the  kind  welcome  extended  to  him,  and  expres- 
sions of  friendship  at  dinner,  ample  evidence  of 
mutual  respect  and  esteem.  Dr.  Winslow  once 
gave  me  a  touching  recount  of  his  baptism  of 
one  of  Mr.  Choate's  children,  —  Caroline,  the 
youngest,  and  deeply  beloved,  who  was  sick,  and 
near  death.  Having  received  a  note  from  Mr. 
Choate,  requesting  his  kind  offices  in  the  baptism 
of  his  child.  Dr.  Winslow  went  to  the  residence, 
and  there  met  the  family  in  great  affliction.  In 
his  account  of  what  occurred,  and  his  description 
of  the  scene,  with  Mr.  Choate  as  a  central  figure, 
and  heart-stricken  father,  Dr.  Winslow  left  a  clear 
impression  upon  my  mind  that  he  thought  Choate 
a  sincere  and  profound  believer.  I  will  not  here 
repeat  the  story  of  the  baptism  scene,  as  related 


BURKE  ON  A    GREAT  NAME. 


413 


to  me  by  the  minister;  it  was  an  experience 
which  brought  out  impressively,  in  the  presence 
of  death,  the  affectionate  and  reverent  side  of  Mr. 
Choate's  character. 

Hon.  E.  L.  Pierce  and  the  late  Professor  Long- 
fellow were  appointed  literary  executors  by  Sum- 
ner's will.  I  am  permitted,  by  the  kindness  of 
Mr.  Pierce,  to  subjoin  several  interesting  letters 
of  Choate's  to  his  friend  Sumner,  which  further 
illustrate  his  views  and  character. 

In  closing  this  contribution  thus  made  in  com- 
pliance with  the  polite  request  of  Judge  Neilson, 
my  regret  is  that  I  did  not  see  and  know  more  of 
the  patriotic,  scholarly  lawyer,  of  whom  it  may 
be  justly  said  he  was  primus  inter  pares. 

Burke,  whom  Choate  admired  so  much,  said  of 
Lord  Chatham,  "  A  great  and  celebrated  name ; 
a  name  that  keeps  the  name  of  this  country  re- 
spectable in  every  other  on  the  globe."  So,  for 
his  own  country,  the  name  of  Ruf  us  Choate,  as  an 
accomplished  jurist,  shall  fulfill  a  like  office. 

JOHN  WINSLOW. 


LETTERS  BY  CHOATE  TO  SUMNER. 


Washington,  Saturday,  May  29,  1841. 

My  dear  Sir, — I  found  the  inclosed,  addressed 
to  me  here,  and  have  great  pleasure  in  giving  it  a 
chance  to  pass  under  your  critical,  and  yet  benev- 
olent, eye.  T  have  hardly  done  more  than  wash 
off  the  "  variation  of  each  "  dust  accumulated,  all 
the  way  from  Boston,  on  my  pen,  ink,  and  paper, 
—  more  commonly  in  this  country,  and  more 
conveniently,  called  stationery,  since  it  included 
wafers,  wax  candles,  penknives,  and  the  like, — 
and  settle  myself  in  an  airy  third-story.  Yet  I 
see  and  feel  —  in  green  peas,  ripe  cherries,  mown 
grass,  roses,  and  a  thermometer  at  80°  —  the  new 
climate  I  have  come  to. 

The  President  is  in  high  spirits  —  making  a 
good  impression.  He  will  stand  by  Mr.  Webster, 
and  the  talk  of  an  unfriendly  conservative  action 
is  true,  but  not  terrifying.  Gushing  will  not  be 
Speaker,  and  "White,  I  should  think,  will,  —  of 
Kentucky,  —  a  Clay  nomination.     But,  I  forget 


ii'  i 


APPOINTMENT  OF  EVERETT. 


415 


the  worthlessness  of  this  gossip,  —  and  leave  yon 
to  your  studies,  business,  ladies,  and  claret 

Very  truly  yours, 

R.  ClIOATE. 


Wasiiixgton. 

My  dear  Sumner,  —  I  have  just  received  the 
memorandum,  and  will  turn  it  nochirna  et  di- 
urna  manu,  —  to  quote  obscure  and  unusual 
Latin  words.  I  hope  it  will  do  your  friend's 
business,  and  the  Pope's,  and  England's,  and  the 
lone  Imperial  mother's,  —  as  you  say. 

Mr.  Webster  is  so  much  excited  (and  con- 
fidentially gratified)  with  the  squahoshment  of 
the  Whigs  ^  that  he  will  talk  of  nothing  else. 
He  thinks  he  can  Seal  better  with  Sir  Robert 
Peel  et  id  genius.  Can  he?  Your  acquaintance 
was  made  with  so  whiggish  a  set  that  I  suppose 
you  mourn  as  for  the  flight  of  liberty.  But, 
mark  you,  how  much  more  peaceably,  i^urehj, 
intellectually,  did  this  roaring  democracy  of  ours 
(change  its  whole  government  and  whole  policy, 
last  fall,  than  England  has  done  it  now. 

Yes,  Everett's  is  a  good  appointment.  Ask 
me,  when  I  get  home,  if  we  did  not  come  near 
losing  him  in  the  Senate,  from  abolitionism, — 
entre  nous,  —  if  we  do,  the  Union  goes  to  pieces 

*  Lord  Melbourne's  Ministry. 


416 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE. 


like  a  potter's  vessel.  But  as  Ercles'  vein  is  not 
lightly  nor  often  to  be  indulged  in  —  {nee  Deus 
inter  sit  nisi,  et  cet). 

I  give  love  to  Hillard,  salute  you,  and  am 

Very  truly  yours, 

R.  C. 
We  shall  have  a  veto  after  all,  ut  timeo. 


Dear  Sumner,  —  I  have  this  moment  received 
the  inclosed,  with  a  civil  note  from  our  friend 
of  Waterloo  and  the  Encyclopedia.  I  hope  you 
and  he  are  plotting  nothing  against  Christianity, 
though  I  doubt  about  you  both  grievously.  He 
expects  you  to  answer  through  me,  and  I  beg  you 

would.     In  a  line  to ,  yesterday,  I  adverted 

to  the  cases  of  Dr.  Howe  and  Mrs.  Bayard,  quod 
vide.  Neither  goes  as  we  would  wish,  alas  for 
the  wishes  of  friendship  and  the  dreams  of  love. 

We  shall  this  morning,  probably,  —  it  is  near  8 
A.  M.,  and  our  committee  meets  at  10,  —  report  a 
more  erect  and  self-sustaining  and  respected  char- 
ter than  Mr.  Ewing's. 

The  debauched  state  of  public  opinion  exceeds 

belief.     Fejor  actus.    Write  me  a  long  letter. 

Very  truly  yours, 

R.  CHOATE. 
21  June,  1841. 


APPLICATIONS  DOUBTFUL. 


417 


8 
a 


(private.) 

September  12<A,  1841. 

My  dear  Sumner,  —  I  am  indignant  at  such 
indolent  and  careless  discourtesy  —  but  hang, 
shoot,  and  drown  me  if  I  can  help  it.  I  have 
spoken  to  him  a  hundred  times  —  and  although  I 
do  not  think  he  takes  strongly  to  the  application 
—  indeed  —  there  is  no  vacancy  —  I  did  suppose 
he  had  written. 

Just  now,  a  real  crisis  —  harassed  —  distract  — 
arranging  cabinets  —  etc.,  etc. —  he  is  impenetra- 
ble to  these  duties  of  kindness,  propriety  —  I  read 
him  your  letter  —  in  a  voice  loud  enough  for 
Faneuil  Hall.     He  surely  will  lorite,  at  least. 

(Private.) 

We  spent  yesterday  all  day  on  Everett.  Al- 
though I  say,  as  I  should  not  say  it,  T  am  inno- 
cent of  the  man's  blood.  After  five  hours,  we 
found  by  sounding  round  the  Chamber  we  should 
be  24  X  24  —  so  we  adjourned,  and  I  have  great 
hopes  we  shall  carry  it  to-morrow. 

The  session  ends  to-morrow,  but  I  shall  stay 
three  or  four  days.     "  God  bless  you." 

Very  truly  yours, 

R.  CHOATE. 
27 


418 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


Washington,  December  9,  1841. 

My  dear  Sir,  —  I  have  just  got  yours,  shall 
have  great  pleasure  in  expressing  myself  in  Mr. 
T.'s  behalf.  The  "  all  powerful  words  "  arc  few, 
nay,  rather  lost  —  but  just  and  friendly  ones  all 
may  speak. 

Yes,  I  ought  to  have  composed  that  strife  as  I 
ought  to  have  done  much  other  good  —  Pulcher 
et  multa  minans,  vero  nee  recti  nee  suavitcr. 

But  not  to  diffuse  myself  in  any  more  philoso- 
phy —  all  thrown  away  on  young  chaps, 
I  abruptly  declare  myself,  truly  yours, 

R.   CIIOATE. 


My  dear  Sir,  —  I  have  received  and  trans- 
mitted your  papers  for  Lieber ;  and  read  the 
D.  A.  with  edification  and  assent.     We  are  wrong. 

Lieber  sent  me  a  strong  paper  on  this  same 
subject.  He  is  the  most  fertile,  indomitable,  un- 
sleeping, combative,  and  propagandizing  person  of 
his  race.  I  have  bought  "  Longfellow,"  and  am 
glad  to  hear  of  his  run. 

Politics  are  unpromising  —  but  better  than  last 
session.     The  juste  milieu  will  vindicate  itself. 
With  much  love  to  G.  S.  H., 

Yours  faithfully, 

R.   CIIOATE. 

7  January,  1842. 

C.  Sumner,  Esq. 


ff 


INVOCATION  AS   TO   THE   CREOLE 


419 


f  ! 


Washington,  Jununry  lUh,  1842. 

My  dear  Sir,  —  I  cry  your  pardon  in  the  mat- 
ter  of  your  letter.  It  was  all  just  right,  and 
showed  inc  well  enough  that  you  were  quite 
enough  in  earnest  —  but  was  an  uncommon  docu- 
ment for  Boards  of  Commissioners.  However,  I 
sent  it,  with  high  praise  of  you  and  the  Doctor. 

You  are  clearly  right  in  the  Search  question. 
I  never  was  more  gratified  than  to  have  been 
asked  —  by  a  spoon,  though  —  if  I  did  not  write  it. 

Discuss  the  Creole  —  as  quick  —  and  as  well  as 
you  possibly  can. 

Lord  Morpeth  is  just  come,  and  pleases  univer- 
sally. He  attends  our  atrocious  spectacles  in 
H.  H.,  with  professional  relish. 

Most  truly  yours, 

R.  C. 

My  dear  Sumxer,  —  I  hoped  to  write  ])efore 
now  to  tell  you  what  can  be  done  for  the  elegant 
and  tuneful  Professor. 

No  certain  thing  do  I  get  yet,  but  I  trust  soon 
to  have.  It  is  the  age  of  patronage  of  genius  you 
see.     Hecjnat  Apollo,  as  one  may  say.   .  .  . 

That  was  a  most  rich  speech  of  Hillard's,  as  is 
all  his  speaking,  Avhether  to  listening  crowds  or  to 
appreciating  circles  of  you  and  me.  We  hear 
that  one  Mrs.  Dickens  called  on  him  and  Mrs. 


mm 


420 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


Hillard  with  a  significant  and  expressive  civility 
and  respect.  In  his  heart,  I  have  no  doubt  the 
Secretary  of  State  agrees  with  you.  But  think  of 
tliis  :  Shall  we  not  give  E.  a  right  by  treaty  to 
search  for  enough  to  find  the  American  character, 
—  on  condition  that  by  treaty  she  agrees  to  assist 
our  slave  ships  in  distress  in  the  W.  I.  ?  To  get 
such  treaties,  must  we  not  begin  by  denying  all  her 
claims  to  search  ?  How  cheerful,  genial,  and  fra- 
grant, as  it  were,  are  our  politics !  What  serried 
files  of  armed  men,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  keeping 
time  to  the  music  of  duty  and  glory,  animated  by 
a  single  soul,  are  the  Whigs !  But  this  delicious 
winter  bears  us  swiftly  through  it  all,  and  the  sun 
of  to-day  lights  up  the  Potomac ;  and  burns  with 
the  flush  and  glory  of  June.  Dexter  says  this  city 
reminds  one  of  Rome.  I  suppose  he  meant  in  its 
spaces  —  solitudes,  quiet,  vices,  and  so  forth  — 
though  the  surrounding  country  is  undoubtedly 
beautiful.  Love  to  Hillard.  Lieber  writes  in 
Latin.  I  mean  to  answer  him  in  any  tongue 
whatever  he  chooses  to  speak,  and  for  that  pur- 
pose must  break  off  and  go  at  him. 

Truly  yours, 

K.   CHOATE. 

19  February,  1842. 


A  SHE UR  TON  TREA  T  Y. 


421 


Washington,  10  r.  m. 

Dear  Sumner  and  IIillaud,  —  I  have  ad- 
dressed myself  with  tears  of  entreaty  to  the  Sec- 
retary ;  and.  if  no  hidden  snag  or  planter  lies 
under  the  muddy  Hood,  we  shall  scull  the  Doctor 
into  port.     There,  as  Dr.  Watts  says,  ho  may 

"  Sit  and  sinj^  liimself  away," 

or  exclaim,  — 

"  Spcs  ct  fortiina,  valete  —  invcni  niiiu'  portum, 
Lusistis  lue  satis  —  ludite  iiiiiu'  alios  "  — 

which  is  from  the  Greek,  you  know,  in  Dalzell's 
"  Gra^c.  Majora,"  vol.  2d,  —  and  closes  some  edi- 
tions of  Gil  Bias! 

The  voting  on  the  Ashburton  Treaty  at  nine  at 
night  —  seats  full  —  lights  lighted,  —  hall  as  still 
as  death  —  -was  not  without  (jrnndneafi.  But  why 
speak  of  this  to  the^)roc?^?Y»j^c.s  of  that  denational- 
ized Boston  and  Massachusetts  ? 

Yours  truly, 

R.   CIIOATE. 


My  dear  Sir,  —  I  did  not  get  your  letter  till  10 
o'clock  p.  M.,  yesterday,  Saturday,  and  it  comes 
unaccompanied  by  that  more  sober  and  more  busi- 
ness-like memorandum  to  which  it  refers.  Where 
is  that?  I  had  previously  written  letters  for  a 
Mr.  Beal  and  a  Mr.  Kittredge  —  and  sent  them 
by  the  ears  to  the  Board.     Your  letter  is  so  full 


422 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


of  rhetoric,  poetry  and  a  certain  fashionable  un- 
conccrnedness  tliat  I  dare  not  send  that.  Dr. 
Scwall  has  received  nothing.  This  is  Sunday, 
and  I  thinlv  to-niglit  I  shall  get  the  other  papers, 
and  to-morrow  the  Board  shall  have  thein. 

I  hope  the  race  will  not  be  so  far  to  the  swift 
that  we  shall  catch  and  outrun  these  mortal  men. 
I  have  a  notion  Kittredge  is  thorough  and  honest, 
but  I  suspect  his  price  is  high. 

I  will  retain  this  letter  till  evening. 

Sunday  evening,  9  o'clock.  I  get  nothing  more 
from  you,  so  that  all  I  have  is  your  note.  In 
this  predicament,  I  think  I  will  address  a  note  to 
the  Board,  stating  that  the  Doctor  will  apply,  and 
suggesting,  generally,  the  ground  of  his  equity. 

Very  truly  yours, 

R.  CIIOATE. 

17  Jamtar'j,  1842. 


My  dear  Sir,  —  I  mourn  that  I  cannot  get 
you  yet  a  copy  of  the  opinions,  otherwise  called 
Old  Fields.  I  am  in  collusion  with  Tims ;  and  if 
man  can  do  it,  Tims  is  he.  I  have  never  got  one 
for  myself,  or  I  would  send  that.  I  send  you 
my  speech,  so  that  if  you  do  not  get  Anne  Page, 
you,  however,  have  the  great  lubberly  boy. 

Never  reading  Buckingham,^  I  only  guess,  from 

^  Editor  of  Boston  paper. 


HE  ABUSE  Til  ME. 


423 


your  kind  liint,  that  he  ubuseth  mc.     The  tarifT 
speech,  I  assure  you,  I  sent  him. 

Lord  Ashljurton  is  a  most  interesting  man, 
quick,  cheerful,  graceful-minded,  keen,  and  pru- 
dent. The  three  young  men  are  also  clever ; 
young  rather ;  one  a  Whig,  —  all  lovers  of  Lord 
Morpeth.  Mame  comes  in  ^vilh  such  exacting 
purposes,  that,  between  us,  1  doubt. 

R.  CIIOATE. 

2  June. 

My  dear  Sumxer,  —  Ten  thousand  thanks  for 
your  seasonable  kindness.  I  won't  quit  till  1  beat 
both  those  speeches  out  and  out. 

Read  not  a  word  of  what  is  called  my  Oregon 
speech  till  I  send  one. 

I  shall  return  all  the  papers  by  W.  F.  Ilillard, 
Esq.  Doubtless  originals  should  be  kept  at  home 
safe.     But  nothing  is  lost  or  mutilated. 

Most  truly  yours, 


R.    CIIOATE. 


25  Fchruanj,  1814. 


My  dear  Sumxer,  —  I  thank  you  for  the  docu- 
ments. The  case  is  assigned  for  the  20th,  —  and 
being,  as  Mr.  Justice  Catron  expressly  declared, 
a  case  of  "  Sovereign  States,"  it  has,  before  this 
tribunal  of  strict  constructionists,  a  terrified  and 
implicit  precedence. 


424 


MEMORIES  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 


Great  swelling  words  of  prescriiDtion  ought  to 
be  spoken.  For  the  rest,  I  see  no  great  fertility 
or  hcif/hts  in  it. 

Most  hnrriedly  yours, 

li.   CIIOATE. 
Saturdiiy,  5  r,  si. 


mi  "> 


I",    ! 


¥ 


b"^ 


Saturday,  February  17,  1844. 

My  dear  Sir,  —  To  my  horror  and  annoyance, 
the  court  has  just  continued  our  cause  to  the  next 
terra . 

The  counsel  of  Rhode  Island  moved  it  yester- 
day, assigning  for  cause  that  the  court  was  not 
full;  that  the  Chief  Justice  could  not  sit,  by 
reason  of  ill  health;  Mr.  Justice  Story  did  not 
sit,  and  th(;re  was  a  vacancy  on  the  bench.  The 
court  v/as,  therefore,  reduced  to  six  judges.  We 
opposed  the  motion. 

To-day,  Mr.  Justice  McLean  said  that,  on  inter- 
changing views,  they  found  that  three  of  the  six, 
who  would  try  it,  have  formerly,  on  the  argument 
of  the  plea,  come  to  an  opinion  in  favor  of  Massa- 
chusetts, and  that,  therefore,  they  thought  it  not 
proper  to  proceed.  If  Rhode  Island  should  fail, 
he  suggested,  she  might  have  cause  of  dissatisfac- 
tion. 

I  regret  this  result,  on  all  accounts,  and  espe- 
cially that  the  constant  preparatory  labors  of  a 


THE  BOUNDARY  DISPUTE. 


425 


month  are,  for  the  present,  wholly  I  •vt.  I  had 
actually  withdrawn  from  the  Senate  Chamber  to 
make  up  this  argument,  whicli  may  now  never  be 
of  any  use  to  anybody.  (Private.)  Shall  I  ask 
you,  as  a  confidential  and  special  act  of  friendship, 
to  make  this  matter  known  to  the  public  through 
any  of  our  2^f//;ers,  in  such  manner,  inter  alia,  as 
to  convey  the  fact  that  counsel  of  Massachusetts 
have  somewhat  engrossingly  prepared  briefs  in 
the  cause  ? 

It  explains :  Silence  elsewhere  is  true  and  right 
and  kind.  The  honest  trutli  is,  I  have  spent  a 
full  month,  day  and  night,  on  the  thing.  Please, 
in  this,  state  your  general  labors  in  procuring  the 
local  proofs. 

There  is  one  quite  important  piece  of  evidence 
to  be  at  once  looked  up.  We  ran  the  line  be- 
tween us  and  Plymouth  in  1G64. 

It  is  of  great  consequence  to  show  that,  in  so 
doing,  we  asserted  our  present  construction  of 
the  charter,  and  that  the  "Angle-tree"  is  far 
south  of  Balfry's  Station.  It  is  important  to 
show  that,  in  IGTO  and  1G71,  w  ran  a  line 
'':owards  the  west,  from  the  "  Angle-tree "  south 
of  the  present  line. 

Mr.  Mitchell  will  know  in  regard  to  the  mode 
of  proving  these  matters. 

We  ouy;lit  to  have  our  connections  and  rela- 


'i 


IF 


1.: 


Iti! 


■■ 


426 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE. 


tions,  too,  up  to  1713,  since  her  acquiescence  is 
as  high  circumstantial  evidence  as  Rhode  Island's. 
Excuse  all  this.  Yours, 

R    CIIOATE. 

My  dear  Sumner,  —  The  book  itself  is  come 
at  last,  looking  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Qi'os  ego 
sed  mdfjnos  iwo  est  et  comjjonere  Jliictus.''  So 
has  Mr.  Packenham  come,  for  did  he  not  sit  an 
hour  last  evening  at  the  birth-night  ball,  with 
Mrs.  Bayard  ?  Henceforth  no  peace  with  Eng- 
hmd.  Nay,  her  very  amba;  -'ndors  should  be  cast 
into  \,ells.  Truly  yours, 

11.  CIIOATE. 

Fehruary  23,  1844. 

May  I  ask  you  to  assure  Dr.  Palfrey  that  his 
book  is  here,  and  to  tell  me  how  you  denominate 
him,  —  quo  nomine  quudlt,  —  Dr.  Esq.,  arma  or 
toga  ? 

These  transitions  play  the  devil  with  classilica- 
tions. 

February,  1844. 

My  dear  St'mner, — All  tlio  papers  came  safe, 
except,  as  yet,  the  whole  volume,  which  is  to  come 
by  Harnden. 

I  shall  print  the  useful,  —  keep  all  safely,  with 
the  entire  file.     Some  of  them  are  very  good. 

The  continuance  of  the  cause  rendered  it  par- 


CONTINUANCE   OF  THE   CAUSE. 


427 


cast 


utica- 

144. 

safe, 
Iconio 

1  with 

par- 


tially to  bo  regretted  that  so  much  trouble  was 
given.  But  it  is  better  to  close  the  printing  at 
once. 

Please  thank  Dr.  Palfrey,  and  dry  his  and  Mr. 
Felt's  tears.  I  knew  it  would  be  like  defending;  a 
city  by  holding  up  upon  the  walls,  against  darts 
and  catapults,  little  children,  images  of  gods, 
cats,  dogs,  onions,  and  all  other  Egyptian  the- 
oc/onies,  —  but  better  so  than  to  bo  taken. 

Yours  truly, 

U.  CIIOATE. 

My  Dear  Seiner,  —  I  have  written,  by  this 
mail,  to  Mr.  Paii'ro}',  Secretary  of  State,  to  send 
me  instantly  certain  papers  for  Massachusetts  vs. 
Rhode  Island.  May  I  entreat  you  to  go,  as  soon 
as  possible,  to  the  State  House,  see  my  letter,  and 
aid  and  urge  its  objects.  You  will  know  the  what 
and  where,  and  a  mail  saved  is  all  one,  —  as  it 
were,  a  kingdom  for  a  horse. 

I  thank  you  for  your  views,  —  excellent  and 
seasonable.  I  will  speak  them  to  the  Court  so 
they  shall  never  know  anything  else  again  as 
long  as  they  live.     Please  be  most  prompt. 

Yours, 

R.  CIIOATE. 

15th  February.     The  case  is  for  the  2()th  !  ! 


1),;' 
t 


mf'\ 


1  -ji 


• 

i 
s 

lt 

p 

;8f 

nil 


428 


MEMORIES   OF  liUFUS   C  HO  ATE. 


Dear  Sumxer,  —  I  have  just  had  your  letter 
read  to  me,  on  a  half-sick  bed,  and  got  up,  red- 
olent of  magnesia  and  roasted  apples,  to  embrace 
you  for  your  Burkeism  generally,  and  for  your 
extracts  and  references.  It  is  odd  that  I  have,  on 
my  last  year's  brief,  a  passage  or  two  from  him 
on  that  very  topic  "which  he  appreciates  so  pro- 
foundly, but  am  most  happy  to  add  yours.  By 
the  way,  I  always  admired  that  very  letter  in 
Prior,  if  it  is  the  same. 

I  hope  you  review  Burke  in  the  "  North  Amer- 
ican Review,"  though  I  have  not  got  it,  and  you 
do  not  say  so.  Mind  that  he  is  the  fourth  Eng- 
lishman, —  Shakespeare,  Bacon,  Milton,  Burke. 
I  hope  you  take  one  hundred  pages  for  the 
article.  Compare,  contrast  with  Cicero, — both 
knowing  all  things,  —  but  God  knows  where  to 
end  on  Burke.  No  Englishman,  or  countryman 
of  ours  has  the  least  appreciation  of  Burke.  The 
Whigs  never  forgave  the  last  eight  or  ten  years 
of  that  life  of  glory,  and  the  Tories  never  for- 
gave what  preceded  ;  and  we,  poor  un idealized, 
Tom  Pinilied  democrats,  do  not  understand  his 
marvelous  English,  universal  wisdom,  illuminated, 
omniscient  mind,  and  are  afraid  of  his  principles. 
What  coxcombical  rascal  i>  it  that  thinks  Boling- 
broke  a  better  writer  ?  Take,  pagt  by  page,  the 
illusions,  the  felicities,  the  immortalities  of  truth. 


ESTIMATE  OF  BURKE. 


429 


variety,  reason,  height,  depth,  everything,  Bohng- 
broke  is  a  vohible  prater  to  Burke. 

Amplify  on  his  letter  in  reply  to  the  Duke  of 
Bedford.  How  mournful,  melodious,  Cassandra- 
like !  Out  of  Burke  might  be  cut  50  Mackin- 
toshes,  175  Macaulays,  40  Jeffreys,  and  250  Sir 
Robert  Peels,  and  leave  him  greater  than  Pitt 
and  Fox  together. 

I  seem  to  suppose  your  article  is  not  written,  as 
I  hope  it  is.     God  bless  you. 

Yours  truly, 

R.  CIIOATE. 

Mr.  Gorden  shall  be  shown  all  that  we  ha\e, 
certainly. 


n 


■re   to 


Boston,  December  21,  ISol. 

My  dear  Mr.  Sumxer, — 1  thank  you  for  the 
copy  of  your  beautiful  speech,  and  for  the  making 
of  it.  All  men  say  it  is  a  successful  one,  parlia- 
mentarily  expressing  it,  and  I  am  sure  it  Is  sound, 
safe,  steering  between  cold-shoulderism  and  inlios- 
pitality,  on  the  one  side,  and  the  splendid  folly 
and  wickedness  of  cooperation,  on  the  other. 
Cover  the  Magyar  with  flowers,  lave  him  with 
perfume,  serenade  him  with  eloquence,  and  let 
him  go  home  alone  if  he  will  not  live  here.  Such 
is  all  that  is  permitted  to  wise  slates  aspiring  to 
"  true  grandeur."     I  wish  to  Heaven  you  would 


430 


I  1 


m 

111 

k 


MEMORIES   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE. 


write  me  de  rehus  congressus.  How  does  the 
Senate  strike  you?  Th'  best  place  this  clay  on 
earth  for  reasoned,  thoughtful,  yet  stimulant 
public  speech.     Think  of  that. 

Most  truly  yours,  —  in  the  union,  — 

RUFUS  CIIOATE. 


Ml" 


Sit 


3  the 
ly  on 
ulant 


:e. 


APPENDIX. 


wM 


APPENDIX. 


REMARKS    BEFORE     THE    CIRCUIT    COURT    ON 
THE   DEATH   OF  MR.    WEBSTER. 

[Mr.  Wr.iiSTKU   died   on    Sunday   mornin,,   Octol,er   24,   I850 

The  me,.bers  of   the  Suffolk  Bar  met   on   Monday  n.ornin.,  and 

appo.nted  a  conunittee   to   report  a  series  of   resolutions.      Th 
were  re    1  „  ,  ^,  ^^  ^^^.^^^^^^  ^^^^^^^^  ^^^ 

^vlrTJ^'  '""'''   ''  PIassacbusetts,-CunxKS   and 

Goorge  S.   IMard,   after  which   Mr.   Choate   ma^e   the   following 
remarks.]  ° 

May  it  please  your  Honors,  - 1  liave  been  re- 
quested    by  tlie  members  of   tl.e  Bar  of  this  Court  to 
add  a  few  words  to  the  resolutions  just  read,  in  which 
they  have    embodied,  as   tliey  were  able,  their   sorrow 
for  the  death  of   their  beloved  and  illustrious  member 
and  countryman,  Mr.  Webster;  their  estimation  of  his 
character,  life,  and  genius ;  their  sense  of  the  bereave- 
ment,-to    the    country  as  to  his   friends,  -  incapable 
of  repair;    the  pride,  the  fondness,  -  the  filial  and  the 
patriotic  pride  and  fondness,- with  which  they  cherish, 
and  would  consign  to  history  to  cherish,  the  memory  of 
a  great  and  good  man. 
28 


434 


APPENDIX. 


Pi   '.rsn 


It' 


hi 
m 


And  yet  I  could  earnestly  have  desired  to  bo  ex- 
cused from  this  duty.  lie  must  have  known  Mr. 
Webster  less,  and  loved  him  less,  than  your  Honors,  or 
than  I  have  known  and  loved  him,  who  can  quite  yet, 
—  quite  yet,  —  before  we  can  comprehend  that  we 
have  lost  him  forever,  —  before  the  first  paleness  with 
which  the  news  of  his  death  overspread  our  cheeks  has 
passed  away,  —  before  we  have  been  down  to  lay  him 
in  the  l*ilgrim  soil  he  loved  so  well,  till  the  heavens 
be  no  more,  —  he  must  have  known  and  loved  him 
less  than  we  have  done  who  can  come  here  quite  yet, 
to  recount  the  series  of  his  service,  to  display  with 
psychological  exactness  the  traits  of  his  nature  and 
mind,  to  ponder  and  speculate  on  the  secrets  —  on  the 
marvelous  secrets  —  and  source  of  that  vast  power, 
which  wo  shall  see  no  more  in  action,  nor  aught  in 
any  degree  resembling  it,  among  men.  Tliese  first 
moments  should  be  given  to  grief.  It  may  employ,  it 
may  promote  a  calmer  mood,  to  construct  a  more 
elaborate  and  less  unworthy  memorial. 

For  the  purposes  of  this  moment  and  place,  indeed, 
no  more  is  needed.  What  is  there  for  this  Court  or 
for  this  Bar  to  learn  from  me,  here  and  now,  of  him? 
The  year  and  the  day  of  his  birth  ;  that  birthplace  on 
the  frontier,  yet  bleak  and  waste ;  the  well,  of  which 
his  childhood  drank,  dug  by  that  father  of  whom  he 
has  said,  that  "  Through  the  fire  and  blood  of  seven 
years  of  revolutionary  war  he  shrank  from  no  danger, 
no  toil,  no  sacrifice,  to  serve  his  country,  and  to  raise 
his  children  to  a  condition  better  than  his  own  ;  "  the 
elm-tree  that  father  planted,  fallen  now,  as  father  and 


APPENDIX. 


435 


son  have  fallen  ;  that  training  of  the  giant  infancy  on 
catechism  and  Bible,  and  Watts'y  version  of  the  Tsalins, 
and  the  traditions  of  Plymouth,  and  Fort  William 
Henry,  and  the  Revolution,  and  the  age  of  Washing- 
ton and  Franklin,  on  the  banks  of  the  Merrimack, 
flowing  sometimes  in  flood  and  anger  from  its  secret 
springs  in  the  crystal  hills ;  the  two  district  school- 
masters, Chase  and  Tappan  ;  the  village  library ;  the 
dawning  of  the  love  and  ambition  of  letters  ;  the  few 
months  at  Exeter  and  Boscawen ;  the  life  of  college ; 
the  probationary  season  of  school-teaching  ;  the  clerk- 
ship in  the  Fryebui-g  Registry  of  Deeds ;  his  admis- 
sion to  the  bar,  presided  over  by  judges  like  Smith, 
illustrated  by  practicers  such  as  Mason,  where,  by  the 
studies,  in  the  contentions  of  nine  years,  he  laid  the 
foundation  of  the  professional  mind ;  his  irresistible 
attraction  to  public  life ;  the  oration  on  commerce ; 
the  Rockingham  resolutions ;  his  first  term  of  four 
years'  service  in  Congress,  when,  by  one  bound,  he 
sprang  to  his  place  by  the  side  of  the  foremost  of  the 
rising  American  statesmen  ;  his  removal  to  this  State  ; 
and  then  the  double  and  parallel  current  in  which  his 
life,  studies,  thoughts,  cares  have  since  flowed,  bearing 
him  to  the  leadership  of  the  bar  by  universal  acclaim, 
bearing  him  to  the  leadership  of  pul)lic  life,  —  last  of 
that  surpassing  triumvirate,  shall  we  say  the  greatest, 
the  most  widely  known  and  admired  ?  —  all  these 
things,  to  their  minutest  details,  are  known  and  re- 
hearsed familiarly.  Happier  than  the  younger  Pliny, 
happier  than  Cicero,  he  has  found  his  historian,  un- 
solicited, in  his  lifetime,  and  his  countrymen  have  him 
all  by  heart  I 


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APPENDIX. 


There  is,  then,  nothing  to  tell  you,  —  nothing  to 
bring  to  mind.  And  then,  if  I  may  borrow  the  lan- 
guage of  one  of  his  historians  and  friends,  —  one  of 
those  through  whose  beautiful  pathos  the  common 
sorrow  uttered  Itself  yesterday,  in  Faneuil  Hall,  —  "I 
dare  not  come  here  and  dismiss  in  a  few  summary 
paragraphs  the  character  of  one  who  has  filleu  such  a 
space  in  the  history,  one  who  holds  such  a  place  in 
the  heart,  of  his  country.  It  would  be  a  disrespectful 
familiarity  to  a  man  of  his  lofty  spirit,  his  great  soul, 
his  rich  endowments,  his  long  and  honorable  life,  to 
endeavor  thus  to  weigh  and  estimate  them,"  —  a  half- 
hour  of  words,  a  handful  of  earth,  for  fifty  years  of 
great  deeds,  on  high  places  ! 

But,  although  the  time  does  not  require  anything 
elaborated  and  adequate,  —  forbids  it,  rather,  —  some 
broken  sentences  of  veneration  and  love  may  be  in- 
dulged to  the  soiTOW  which  oj)presses  us. 

There  presents  itself,  on  the  first  and  to  any  obser- 
vation of  Mr.  Webster's  life  and  character,  a  twofold 
eminence,  —  eminence  of  the  very  highest  rank, —  in 
a  twofold  field  of  intellectual  and  public  display, — 
the  profession  of  the  law  and  the  profession  of  states- 
manship, —  of  which  it  would  not  be  easy  to  recall 
any  parallel  in  the  biography  of   illustrious  men. 

Without  seeking  for  parallels,  and  without  asserting 
that  they  do  not  exist,  consider  that  he  was,  by  uni- 
versal designation,  the  leader  of  the  general  American 
bar ;  and  that  he  was,  also,  by  an  equally  universal 
designation,  foremost  of  her  statesmen  living  at  his 
death  ;    inferior  to   not   one  who   has   lived   and   acted 


APPENDIX. 


437 


since  the  opening  of  his  own  public  life.  Look  at 
these  aspects  of  his  greatness  separately,  and  from  op- 
posite sides  of  the  surpassing  elevation.  Consider  that 
his  single  career  at  the  bar  may  seem  to  have  been 
enough  to  employ  the  largest  faculties,  without  repose, 
for  a  lifetime  ;  and  that,  if  then  and  thus  the  "  infin' 
itus  forcnaium  rerum  labor "  should  have  conducted 
him  to  a  mere  professional  reward,  —  a  bench  of  chan- 
cery or  law,  the  crown  of  the  first  of  advocates,  juris- 
peritorum  eloquejitissiinus,  —  to  the  pure  and  mere 
honors  of  a  great  magistrate,  —  that  that  would  be  as 
much  as  is  allotted  to  the  ablest  in  the  distribution  of 
fame.  Even  that  half,  if  I  may  say  so,  of  his  illustri- 
ous reputation,  —  how  long  the  labor  to  win  it,  how 
worthy  of  all  that  labor!  He  was  bred  first  in  the 
severest  school  of  the  common  law,  in  which  its  doc- 
trines were  expounded  by  Smith,  and  its  administra- 
tion shaped  and  directed  by  Mason,  and  its  foundation 
principles,  its  historical  sources  and  illustrations,  its 
connection  with  the  parallel  series  of  statutory  enact- 
ments, its  modes  of  reasoning,  and  the  eviikmce  of  its 
truths,  he  grasped  easily  and  completely ;  and  T  have 
myself  heard  him  say,  that  for  many  years,  while  still 
at  the  bar,  he  tried  more  causes,  and  argued  more 
questions  of  fact  to  the  jury  than  perhaps  any  other 
member  of  the  profession  anywhere.  I  have  heard 
from  others  how,  even  then,  he  exemplified  the  same, 
direct,  clear,  and  forcible  exhibition  of  proofs,  and  the 
reasonings  appropriate  to  proofs,  as  well  as  the  same 
marvelous  power  of  discerning  instantly  what  we  call 
the   decisive   points  of  the   cause   in  law  and  fact,  by 


438 


APPENDIX. 


which  he  was  later  more  widely  celebrated.     This  was 
the  first  epoch  in  his  professional  training. 

With  the  commencement  of  his  public  life,  or  with 
his  later  removal  to  this  State,  began  the  second  epoch 
of  his  professional  training,  conducting  him  through 
the  gi'adation  of  the  national  tribunals  to  the  study 
and  practice  of  the  more  flexible,  elegant,  and  scientific 
jurisprudence  of  commerce  and  of  chancery,  and  to 
the  grander  and  less  fettered  investigations  of  inter- 
national, prize,  and  constitutional  law,  and  giving  him 
to  breathe  the  air  of  a  more  famous  forum,  in  a  more 
public  presence,  with  more  variety  of  competition,  al- 
though he  never  met  abler  men,  as  I  have  hoard  him 
say,  than  some  of  those  who  initiated  him  in  the  rug- 
ged discipline  of  the  courts  of  New  Hampshire  ;  and 
thus,  at  length,  by  these  studies,  these  luV)ors,  this  con- 
tention, continued  without  repose,  he  came,  now  many 
years  ago,  to  stand  omnium  aaaensu  at  the  summit  of 
the  American  bar. 

It  is  common,  and  it  is  easy,  in  the  case  of  all  in 
such  position,  to  point  out  other  lawyers,  here  and 
there,  as  possessing  some  special  qualification  or  attain- 
ment more  remarkably,  perhaps,  because  more  exclu- 
sively,—  to  say  of  one  that  he  has  more  cases  in  his 
recollection  at  any  given  moment,  or  that  he  was  ear- 
lier grounded  in  equity,  or  has  gathered  more  black 
letter  or  civil  law,  or  knowledge  of  Spanish  or  of 
Western  titles,  —  and  these  comparisons  were  some- 
times made  with  him.  But  when  you  sought  a  coun- 
sel of  the  first  rate  for  the  great  cause,  who  would 
most  surely  discern,  and  most  powerfully  expound,  the 


APPENDIX. 


439 


exact  Law,  required  by  the  controversy,  in  season  for 
use ;  wlio  coukl  most  skillfully  encounter  the  opposing 
law;  under  whose  powers  of  analysis,  persuasion,  and 
display,  the  asserted  right  would  assume  the  most 
probable  aspect  before  the  intelligence  of  the  judge  ; 
who,  if  the  inquiry  becams  blended  with  or  resolved 
into  facts,  could  most  completely  develop  and  most 
irresistibly  expose  them ;  one  "  the  law's  whole  thunder 
bom  to  wieUl," — when  you  sought  such  a  counsel,  and 
could  have  the  choice,  I  think  the  universal  })rofession 
would  have  turned  to  him.  And  this  would  bo  so  in 
nearly  every  description  of  cause,  in  any  department. 
Some  able  men  wieid  civil  inquiries  with  a  peculiar 
ability  ;  some  cruninal.  IIow  lucidly  and  how  deeply 
he  elucidated  a  question  of  property,  you  all  know. 
But  then,  with  what  address,  feeling,  patiios,  and  pru- 
dence he  defended,  with  what  dignity  and  crushing 
power,  acciisatorio  spiritu,  he  prosecuted  tlie  aroused  of 
crime,  whom  he  believed  to  have  been  guilty,  few  have 
seen  ;   but  none  who  have  seen  can  ever  forget  it. 

Some  scenes  there  are,  some  Alpine  eminenees  rising 
above  the  high  table-land  of  such  a  professional  life, 
to  wliich,  in  the  briefest  tribute,  we  should  love  to  fol- 
low him.  We  recall  that  day,  for  an  instunce,  when  he 
first  announced,  with  decisive  display,  what  manner  of 
man  ho  was,  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  nation.  It 
was  in  1818,  and  it  was  in  the  arcrument  of  the  case 
of  Dartmouth  College.  William  I'mkney  was  recruit- 
ing his  great  faculties,  and  replenishing  that  reservoir 
of  professional  and  elegant  acquisition,  in  Europe. 
Samuel    Dexter,  "the  honorable    man,  and   the    coun- 


440 


APPENDIX. 


selor,  and  the  eloquent  orator,"  was  in  his  grave.  Tlie 
boundless  old-sehool  learning  of  Luther  Miulin  ;  the  sil- 
ver voice  and  infinite  analytical  ingenuity  and  resources 
of  Jones ;  the  fervid  genius  of  Eniniett  pouring  itself 
along  hnmenso  ore;  the  ripe  and  beautiful  culture  of 
Wirt  and  Ilopkinson,  —  the  steel  point,  unseen,  nut  un- 
felt,  beneath  the  foliage ;  Harper  himself,  statesman  as 
well  as  lawyer,  —  these,  and  such  as  these,  were  left  of 
that  noble  bar.  That  day  Mr.  Webster  opened  the 
cause  of  Dartmouth  College  to  a  tribunal  unsurpassed 
on  earth  in  all  that  gives  illustration  to  a  bench  of  law, 
not  one  of  whom  any  longer  survives. 

One  would  love  to  linger  on  the  scene,  when,  after 
a  masterly  argument  of  the  law,  carrying,  as  wo  may 
now  know,  conviction  to  the  general  mind  of  the  court, 
and  vindicating  and  settling  for  his  lifetime  his  place 
in  that  foroin,  he  paused  to  enter,  with  an  altered  feel- 
ing, tone,  and  manner,  with  these  words,  on  his  perora- 
tion :  "  I  have  brought  my  Abna  Mater  to  this  pres- 
ence, that,  if  she  must  fall,  she  may  fall  in  her  robes, 
and  with  dignity  ; "  and  then  broke  forth  in  that  strain 
of  sublime  and  pathetic  eloquence,  of  which  we  know 
not  much  more  than  that,  in  its  progress,  Marshall,  — 
the  intellectual,  the  self-controlled,  the  unemotional, — 
announced,  visibly,  the  presence  of  the  unaccustomed 
enchantment. 

Other  forensic  triumphs  crowd  on  us,  in  other  com- 
petition, with  other  issues.  But  I  must  commit  them 
to  the  historian  of  constitutional  jurisprudence. 

And  now,  if  this  transcendent  professional  reputa- 
tion were  all  of  Mr.  Webster,  it  might  be  practicable. 


APPENDIX. 


441 


though  not  easy,  to  find  its  piinillel  elsewhere  in  our 
own,  or  in  Europeiin  or  chissical  biograpliy. 

lUit,  when  you  consider  that,  siile  by  side  with  this, 
there  was  growing  up  that  other  reputation,  —  that  of 
the  first  American  statesman ;  that,  for  thirty-three 
years,  and  those  embracing  his  most  Herculean  works 
at  the  bar,  he  was  engaged  as  a  member  of  either 
House,  or  in  the  highest  of  the  executive  de[)artnients, 
in  the  cunduct  of  the  largest  national  atVairs,  in  the 
treatment  of  the  largest  national  questions,  in  debate 
with  the  highest  abilities  of  American  public  life,  con- 
ducting iliplomatic  intercourse  in  delicate  relatiuus  with 
all  maimer  of  foreign  powers,  investigating  whole  classes 
of  truths,  totally  unlike  the  truths  of  the  law,  and  rest- 
ing on  principles  totally  distinct,  —  and  that  here,  too, 
lie  was  wise,  safe,  controlling,  trusti'd,  the  foremost 
man  ;  that  Europe  had  come-  to  see  in  his  life  a  guar- 
anty for  justice,  for  peace,  for  the  best  hopes  of  civil- 
ization, and  America  to  feel  surer  of  her  glory  and  her 
safety  as  his  great  arm  enfolded  her,  —  you  see  Iiow 
rare,  how  solitary,  almost,  was  the  actual  greatness ! 
Who,  anywhere,  has  won,  as  he  had,  the  double  fame, 
and  worn  the  double  wreath  of  Murray  and  Chatham, 
of  Dunning  and  Fox,  of  Erskine  and  Pitt,  of  William 
Pinkney  and  Ivufus  King,  in  one  blended  and  tran- 
scendent superiority  ? 

I  cannot  attemi)t  to  grasp  and  sum  u[)  the  aggre- 
gate of  the  service  of  his  public  life  at  such  a  moment 
as  this ;  and  it  is  needless.  That  life  comprised  a 
term  of  more  than  thirty-three  years.  It  produced  a 
body  of  performance,  of  which   I   may  say,  generally, 


442 


APPENDIX. 


it  was  all  which  the  fiist  abilities  of  the  country  and 
time,  employed  with  unexampled  toil,  stimulated  by 
the  noblest  })atriotism,  in  the  higliest  places  of  the 
state,  in  the  fear  of  God,  in  the  presence  of  nations, 
could  possibly  compass. 

lie  came  into  Congress  after  the  war  of  1812  had 
begun ;  and,  though  probably  deeming  it  unnecessai'y, 
according  to  the  highest  standards  of  public  necessity, 
in  his  private  character,  and  objecting,  in  his  public 
character,  to  some  of  the  details  of  the  policy  by  which 
it  was  prosecuted,  and  standing  by  party  ties  in  gen- 
eral opposition  to  the  administration,  he  never  breathed 
a  sentiment  calculated  to  depress  the  tone  of  the  public 
mind,  to  aid  or  comfort  the  enemy,  to  check  or  chill 
the  stirrings  of  that  new,  passionate,  unquenchable  spirit 
of  nationality,  which  then  was  revealed,  or  kindled  to 
burn  till  we  go  down  to  the  tombs  of  states. 

With  the  peace  of  1815  his  more  cherished  public 
labors  began ;  and  thenceforward  he  devoted  himself 
—  the  ardor  of  his  civil  youth,  the  energies  of  his 
maturest  manhood,  the  autumnal  wisdom  of  the  ri- 
pened year  —  to  the  offices  of  legislation  and  diplo- 
macy; of  preserving  the  peace,  keeping  the  honor, 
establishing  the  boundaries,  and  vindicating  the  neutral 
rights  of  his  country ;  restoring  a  sound  currency,  and 
laying  its  foundation  sure  and  deep ;  in  upholding 
public  ci'edit ;  in  promoting  foreign  commerce  and  do- 
mestic industry ;  in  developing  our  uncounted  material 
resources, — giving  the  lake  and  the  river  to  trade, — 
and  vindicating  and  interpreting  the  Constitution  and 
the  law.      On   all   these    subjects,  —  on   all   measures 


APPENDIX. 


443 


practically  in  any  dogn'o  afTocting  thorn,  —  lie  lias  in- 
scribi'd  \m  opinions  and  left  tlici  traces  of  his  hand. 
Everywhere  the  philosophical  and  patriot  statesman 
and  thinker  will  find  that  ho  has  been  before  him, 
lighting  the  way,  sounding  the  abyss.  His  weighty 
language,  his  sagacious  warnings,  his  great  maxims  of 
empire  will  be  raised  to  view,  and  live  to  be  deci- 
phered when  the  final  catastrophe  shall  lift  the  granite 
foundation  in  fragments  from  its  bed. 

In  this  connection,  I  cannot  but  remark  to  how  ex- 
traordinary an  extent  had  Mr.  Webster,  by  his  acts, 
words,  thoughts,  or  the  events  of  his  life,  associated 
himself  forever  in  the  memory  of  all  of  us  with  every 
historical  incident,  or,  at  least,  with  every  historical 
epoch,  with  every  policy,  with  every  glory,  with  every 
great  name  and  fundamental  institutio'  and  grand  or 
beautiful  image,  which  are  peculiarly  and  properly 
American.  Look  backwards  to  the  planting  of  Plym- 
outh and  Jamestown  ;  to  the  various  scenes  of  colo- 
nial life  in  peace  and  war ;  to  the  opening  and  march 
and  close  of  the  revolutionary  drama ;  to  the  ag(j  of 
the  Constitution ;  to  Washington  and  Franklin  and 
Adams  and  Jefferson  ;  to  the  whole  train  of  causes, 
from  the  Reformation  downwards,  which  prepared  us 
to  be  republicans ;  to  that  other  train  of  causes  which 
led  us  to  be  unionists,  —  ^ook  round  on  field,  work- 
shop, and  deck,  and  hear  the  music  of  labor  rewarded, 
fed,  and  protected ;  look  on  the  bright  sisterhood  of 
the  States,  each  singing  as  a  seraph  in  her  motion, 
yet  blending  in  a  common  harmony,  —  and  there  is 
nothing  which  does  not  bring  him  by  some  tie  to  the 


444 


APrEXDIX: 


li; 


^! 


nu'inory  of  America.  Wo  Keem  to  see  Iii.s  form  and 
lu'ar  Ills  dtep,  {^ravo  spcc^ch  every wlnrc.  IJy  some 
felicity  of  liis  jxtsoiuiI  life ;  by  soiue  wise,  deep,  or 
beautiful  word,  spoken  or  nritten  ;  by  some  service  of 
his  own,  or  some  comnienioration  of  the  services  of 
others,  it  has  come  to  pass  that  "  our  {granite  hills, 
our  inland  seas,  and  prairies,  and  fresh,  unbounded? 
niagiiilieent  wiklerness,"  our  encircling  ocean,  the  Kock 
of  the  Pilgrims,  our  new-born  sister  of  the  Pacific,  our 
popular  aHsemblies,  our  free  schools,  all  our  cherished 
doctrines  of  education,  and  of  the  inlluence  of  religion, 
and  material  policy,  and  the  law,  and  the  Constitution, 
give  us  back  his  name.  What  American  landsca[>e 
will  you  look  on,  what  subject  of  American  interest 
will  you  study,  what  source  of  hope  or  of  anxiety,  as 
an  American,  will  you  acknowledge,  that  does  not  re- 
call him  ? 

I  shall  not  venture,  in  this  rapid  and  gcMieral  recol- 
lection of  Mr.  Webster,  to  attempt  to  analyze  that  intel- 
lectual power  which  all  admit  to  have  been  so  extraor- 
dinary, or  to  compa'e  or  contrast  it  with  the  mental 
greatness  of  others,  in  variety  or  degree,  of  the  living 
or  the  dead ;  or  even  to  attempt  to  appreciate,  exactly, 
and  in  reference  to  canons  of  art,  his  single  attribute  of 
eloquence.  Consider,  however,  the  remarkable  phenom- 
enon of  excellence  in  three  unkindred,  one  might  have 
thought,  incompatible  forms  of  public  speech, — that  of 
the  forum,  with  its  double  audience  of  bench  and  jury, 
of  the  halls  of  legislation,  and  of  the  most  thronged 
and  tumultuous  assemblies  of  the  people. 

Consider,  further,  that  this  multiform  eloquence,  ex- 


APPENDIX. 


445 


actly  as  his  words  fell,  bocamo  at  once  so  Tniicli  accos- 
sion  to  permanent  literature,  in  tlie  strictest  sense, 
solitl,  attractive,  and  rich,  and  ask  how  ofKMi  in  the 
history  of  piihUc  life  audi  a  thing  lias  been  extiniplidod. 
Recall  what  pervaded  all  these  forms  of  display,  and 
every  elTort  in  every  form,  —  that  union  of  naked  intel- 
lect, in  its  largest  measure,  which  penetrates  to  the 
exact  truth  of  the  matter  in  hand,  by  intuition  or  by 
inference,  ami  discerns  everything  which  may  make  it 
intelligible,  probable,  or  credible  to  another,  with  an 
emotionid  iind  moral  nature  profound,  passionate,  and 
readv  to  kindle,  and  with  an  iniHijination  enough  to 
supi>ly  a  hundred-fold  more  of  illustration  and  ag- 
grandizement thiin  his  taste  suffered  him  to  accept ; 
that  union  of  greatness  of  soul  witii  depth  of  heart, 
which  made  his  speaking  alm)st  more  an  exhibition  of 
character  than  of  mere  genius ;  the  style,  not  merely 
pure,  clear  Saxon,  but  so  constructed,  so  numerous  as 
far  as  becomes  prose,  so  foicible,  so  abounding  in  un- 
labored felicities ;  the  words  so  choice  ;  the  epithet  so 
pictured ;  the  matter  absolute  trutli,  or  the  most  exact 
and  specious  resemblance  the  human  wit  can  devise  ; 
the  treatment  of  the  subject,  if  you  have  regard  to 
the  kind  of  truth  he  had  to  handle,  —  political,  ethical, 
legal,  —  as  deep,  as  complete  as  Paley's,  or  Locke's, 
or  Sutler's,  or  Alexander  Hamilton's,  of  their  subjects ; 
yet  that  dei)th  and  that  completeness  of  sense,  made 
transparent  as  through  crystal  waters,  all  embodied  in 
harmonious  or  well-composed  periods,  raised  on  winged 
language,  vivified,  fused,  and  poured  along  in  a  tide  of 
emotion,  fervid,  and  iuciipable  to  be  withstood ;   recall 


440 


APPENDIX. 


the  form,  tlio  eyo,  the  brow,  the  tone  of  voice,  the 
presence  of  the  intellectual  king  of  men, — recall  him 
thus,  and,  in  the  language  of  Mr.  Justice  Story,  com- 
memorating Samuel  Dexter,  we  may  well  "  rejoice  that 
we  liavo  lived  in  the  same  age,  that  we  have  listened 
to  his  eloquence,  and  been  instructed  by  his  wisdom." 

I  cannot  leave  the  subject  of  his  eloquence  without 
returning  to  a  thought  I  have  advanced  already.  All 
that  he  has  left,  or  the  larger  portion  of  all,  is  the 
record  of  spoken  words.  His  works,  as  already  col- 
lected, extend  to  many  volumes,  —  a  library  of  reason 
and  eloquence,  as  Gibbon  has  said  of  Cicero's,  —  but 
they  are  volumes  of  speeches  only,  or  maiiily;  and  yet 
who  does  not  rank  him  as  a  grc;u  American  author? 
an  author  as  truly  expounding,  and  as  characteristically 
exemplifying,  in  a  pure,  genuine,  and  harmonious  Eng- 
lish style,  the  mind,  thought,  point  of  view  of  objects, 
and  essential  nationality  of  his  country  as  any  other  of 
our  authors,  professedly  so  denominated?  Against  the 
maxim  of  Mr.  Fox,  his  speeches  read  well,  and  yet 
were  good  speeches  —  great  speeches  —  in  the  delivery. 
For  80  grave  were  they,  so  thoughtful  and  true,  so 
much  the  eloquence  of  reason  at  last,  so  strikingly  al- 
ways they  contrived  to  link  the  immediate  topic  with 
other  and  broader  principles,  ascending  easily  to  widest 
generalizations,  so  happy  was  the  reconciliation  of  the 
qualities  which  engage  the  attention  of  hearers,  yet  re- 
ward the  perusal  of  students,  so  critically  did  they 
keep  the  right  side  of  the  line  which  parts  eloquence 
from  rhetoric,  and  so  far  do  they  rise  above  the  penury 
of  mere  debate,  that  the  general  reason  of  the  country 


APPESDIX. 


447 


lias  enslirinetl  tliom  iit  once,  and  forever,  among  our 
cliissics. 

It  is  a  common  lu'liof  that  Mr.  Wi'l).stt»r  wns  a  vari- 
ous reader;  antl  I  think  it  is  true,  even  to  a  greater 
degree  than  lias  been  believed.  In  his  profession  of 
politics,  nothing,  I  think,  worthy  of  attention  had  es- 
caped him ;  nothing  of  the  ancient  or  modern  pru- 
dence; nothing  which  (rreek  or  lioman  or  lunopean 
apt'  ilation  in  that  walk  had  explored,  or  (ireek  or  Uo- 
num  or  European  or  universal  history  or  public  biogra- 
phy ''xempl'ilod.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  with  what 
admiration  he  s[)oke,  at  an  interview  to  which  he  admit- 
ted lae,  while  in  the  Law  School  at  Cambridge,  of  the 
politics  and  ethics  of  Aristotle,  and  of  the  mighty  mind 
which,  as  he  said,  seemed  to  have  "  thought  through  " 
so  many  of  the  great  problems  which  form  the  dis- 
cipline of  social  man.  American  history  and  American 
political  literature  he  had  by  heart, — the  long  series 
of  influences  which  trained  us  for  representative  and 
free  government;  that  other  series  of  influences  which 
moulded  us  into  a  united  government;  the  colonial  era; 
the  age  of  controversy  before  tlie  revolnfion ;  every 
scene  and  every  person  in  that  great  tragic  action ; 
every  question  which  has  successively  engaged  our  pf>li- 
tics,  and  every  name  which  has  fig'ired  in  them, — the 
whole  stream  of  our  time  was  open,  clear,  and  present 
ever  to  his  eye. 

Beyond  his  profession  of  politics,  so  to  call  it,  he 
had  been  a  diligent  and  choice  reader,  as  his  extraor- 
dinary style  in  part  reveals ;  and  I  think  the  love  of 
reading  would  have  gone  with  him  to  a  later  and  riper 


448 


APPENDIX. 


ago,  if  to  sucli  an  age  it  had  been  the  will  of  God  to 
preserve  liim.  This  is  no  place  or  time  to  appreciate 
this  branch  of  his  acquisitions ;  but  there  is  an  interest 
inexpressible  in  knowing  who  were  any  of  the  chosen 
from  among  the  great  dead  in  the  library  of  such  a  man. 
Others  may  correct  me,  but  I  should  say  of  that  interior 
and  narrower  circle  were  Cicero,  Virgil,  Shakespeare, 
—  wL^ra  he  knew  as  familiarly  as  the  Constitution,  — 
Bacon,  Milton,  Burke,  Johnson,  —  to  whom  I  hope  it 
is  not  pedantic  nor  fanciful  to  say,  I  often  thought  his 
nature  presented  some  resemblance ;  the  same  abun- 
dance of  the  general  propositions,  required  for  explain- 
ing a  difficulty  and  refuting  a  sophism,  copiously  and 
promptly  occurring  to  him  ;  the  same  kindness  of  heart 
and  wealth  of  sensibility,  under  a  manner,  of  course, 
more  courteous  and  gracious,  yet  more  sovereign ;  the 
same  sufficient,  yet  not  predominant,  imagination,  stoop- 
ing ever  to  truth,  and  giving  affluence,  vivacity,  and 
attraction  to  a  powerful,  correct,  and  weighty  style  of 
prose. 

I  cannot  leave  this  life  and  chai'actcr  without  select- 
ing and  dwelling  a  moment  on  one  or  two  of  his 
traits,  or  virtues,  or  felicities,  a  little  longer.  There 
is  a  collective  impression  made  by  the  whole  of  an 
eminent  person's  life,  beyond  and  other  than,  and  apart 
from,  that  which  the  mere  general  biographer  would 
afford  the  means  of  explaining.  There  is  an  influence 
of  a  great  man  derived  from  things  indescribable, 
almost,  or  incapable  of  enumeration,  or  singly  insuf- 
ficient to  account  for  it,  but  through  which  his  spirit 
transpires,  and  his  individuality  goes  forth  on  the  con- 


APPENDIX. 


449 


temporary  generation.      And    tlius,  I    slionld    say,  one 
grand  tendency  of  his  life  and  cliaractor  was  to  elevate 
the   whole   tone  of   the  public  mind.     He  did  this,  in- 
deed, not   merely  by  example.      He  did  it  by  dealing, 
as  he  thought,  truly  and   in  manly  fashion,  with   that 
public   mmd.      He  evinced  his  love  of  the  people,   not 
so  much  by  honeyed   phrases  as  by  good  counsels  and 
useful  service,  vera  pro  gratis.     He  showed  how  he  ap- 
preciated them  by  submitting  sound  arguments  to  their 
understandings,  and  right  motivs  to  their  free  will.    Ho 
came  before  them,  less  with  flattery  than  with  instruc- 
tion ;  less  with  a  vocabulary  larded  with  the  words  ^i,^- 
wia^iVy  and  p/illanthrop,/,  am]  progress  and  brotherJioo,!, 
than  with  a  scheme  of  politics,  an    educational,  social,' 
and  governmental  system,  which  would  have  made  them 
prosperous,  happy,  and  great. 

What  the  greatest  of  the  Greek  historians  said  of 
Pericles,  we  all  feel  might  be  said  of  him,— "He  did 
not  so  much  follow  as  lead  the  people,  because  he 
framed  not  his  words  to  please  them,  like  one  who  is 
gaming  power  by  unworthy  means,  but  was  able  and 
dared,  on  the  strength  of  his  high  character,  even  to 
brave  their  anger  by  contradicting  their  will." 

I  should  indicate  it,  as  anotlun-  inlluence  of  his  life, 
acts,  and  opiHons,  that  it  was,  in  an  extraordinary 
degree,  unifor.Mly  and  liberally  conservative.  He  saw 
with  vision  as  of  a  prophet,  that  if  our  system  of  united 
government  can  be  maintained  till  a  nationality  shall 
be  generated,  of  due  intensity  and  due  comprehension, 
a  glory  indeed  millennial,  a  progress  without  end,  a 
triumph  of  humanity  hitherto  unseen,  were  ours  ;  and, 
*\9 


450 


APPENDIX. 


therefore,  he  addressed  himself  to  maintain  that  united 
government. 

Standing  on  the  Kock  of  Plymouth,  he  bade  distant 
generations  hail,  and  saw  them  rising,  "demanding  life, 
impatient  for  the  skies,"  from  what  then  were  "  fresh, 
unbounded,  magnificent  wildernesses  ;  "  from  the  shore 
of  the  great,  tranquil  sea,  not  yet  become  ours.  But 
observe  to  what  he  welcomes  them  ;  by  what  he  would 
bless  tliem.  "  It  is  to  good  government."  It  is  to 
*'  treasures  of  science  and  delights  of  learning."  It  is 
to  the  "  sweets  of  domestic  life,  the  immeasurable  good 
of  rational  existence,  the  immortal  hopes  of  Christian- 
ity, the  liglit  of  everlasting  truth." 

It  will  be  happy,  if  the  wisdom  and  temper  of  his  ad- 
ministration of  our  foreign  atTairs  shall  preside  in  the 
time  which  is  at  hand.  Sobered,  instructed  by  the  ex- 
amples and  warnings  of  all  the  past,  he  yet  gathered, 
from  the  study  and  comparison  of  all  the  eras,  that 
there  is  a  silent  progress  of  the  race,  —  without  pause, 
without  haste,  without  return,  —  to  which  the  counsel- 
ings  of  history  are  to  be  accommodated  by  a  wise  phi- 
losophy. More  than,  or  as  much  as,  that  of  any  of  our 
public  characters,  his  statesmanship  was  one  wliich  rec- 
ognized a  Europe,  an  old  world,  but  yet  grasped  the 
capital  idea  of  the  American  position,  and  deduced  from 
it  the  whole  fashion  and  color  of  its  policy ;  which  dis- 
cerned that  we  are  to  play  a  high  part  in  human 
affairs,  but  discerned,  also,  what  part  it  is,  —  peculiar, 
distant,  distinct,  and  grand  as  our  hemisphere ;  an  in- 
fluence, not  a  contact,  —  the  stnge,  the  drama,  the  ca- 
tastrophe, all  but  the   audience,  all  our  own,  —  and  if 


APPENDIX. 


451 


ever  he  felt  himself  at  a  loss,  he  consultetl,  reverently, 
the  genius  of  Washington. 

In  bringing  these   memories  to  a  conclusion, —for  I 
omit  many  things   because  I  dare  not  trust  mvself   to 
speak  of  them, -I  shall  not  be  misunclerstood,''or  give 
offense,  if    1   hope   tha'.   one   other   trait  in  his   public 
character,  one   doctrine,    ratlier,  of   his   political   creed, 
may  be  remembered  and  be  appreciated.     It  is  one  of 
the   two   fundamental    precepts  in  which  Plato,  as  ex- 
pounded by  the  great   master  of   Latin  eloquence   and 
reason  and  morals,  comprehends  the  duty  of  tliose  who 
share   in  tlie   conduct  of   the    State,  _  ''  ut  qucecunque 
agunt,  totum  corpus  reipuhlmv  curmt,  nediirn  partem 
allquam  tuentur,  rellquas  deserant  ;  "  that  they  comprise 
in  their  care  the  Avhole  body  of  the  Kepublic,  nor  keep 
one  part  and  desert  another.      He  gives  the  reason,— 
one  reason,— of  the  precept,  ^^qui  autem  parti  civium 
consulmit,   partem   neglirjunt,   rem  pernidoslssimam  in 
civitatcm  inducunt,  seditionem  atque  discordiam:'     The 
patriotism  which  embraces  less  than  the  whole  induces 
sedition  and  discord,  the  last  evil  of  the  state. 

How  profoundly  he  had  comprehended  this  truth  ; 
with  what  persistency,  with  what  passion,  from  the 
first  hour  he  became  a  public  man  to  tlie  last  beat  of 
the  great  heart,  he  cherished  it;  how  little  he  ac- 
counted the  good,  the  praise,  the  blame  of  this  locality 
or  that,  in  comparison  of  the  larger  good  and  the 
general  and  thoughtful  approval  of  his  own,  and  our, 
whole  Americi^  — she  this  day  feels  and  announces. 
Wheresoever  a  drop  of  her  blood  flows  in  the  veins 
of  men,  this  trait  is  felt  and  appreciated.     The  hunter 


452 


APPENDIX. 


beyond  Superior ;  the  fislierraaii  on  the  deck  of  the 
nigh  night-foundered  skiff;  the  sailor  on  the  uttermost 
sea,  —  will  feel,  as  he  hears  these  tidings,  that  the 
protection  of  a  sleepless,  all-embracing,  parental  care 
is  withdrawn  from  him  for  a  space,  and  that  his  path- 
way henceforward  is  more  solitary  and  less  safe  than 
before. 

But  I  cainiot  pursue  these  thoughts.  Among  the 
eulogists  who  have  just  uttered  the  eloquent  sorrow  of 
England  at  the  death  of  the  great  Duke,  one  has  em- 
ployed an  image  and  an  idea  which  1  venture  to 
modify  and  ap^tropriate. 

"  The  Northmen's  image  of  death  is  finer  than  that 
of  other  climes ;  no  skeleton,  but  a  gigantic  figure  that 
envelops  men  within  the  massive  folds  of  its  dark  gar- 
ment." Webster  seems  so  enshrouded  from  us,  as  the 
last  of  the  mighty  three,  themselves  following  a  mighty 
series,  —  the  greatest  closing  the  procession.  The  robe 
draws  round  him,  and  the  era  is  past. 

Yet  how  much  there  is  which  that  all-ample  fold 
shall  not  hide,  —  the  recorded  wisdom,  the  great  ex- 
ample, the  assured  immortality. 

They  spoak  of  monuments  ! 

"  Nothing  can  cover  his  high  fame  but  heaven  ; 
No  pyramids  set  off  his  memories 
But  the  eternal  substance  of  his  greatness; 
To  which  I  leave  him." 


INDEX. 


AniNGKK,    Lord.    See    Scarlett,    Sir 
James. 

Adams,  Charles  Francis,  254,  391,  395. 

Adams,  Lhonezer,  jirofessor  at  i)art- 
mouili,  -JiT,  ;J4.i,  .JO:i,  ;j,jy. 

Adams.  Jcilin,  defense  of  British  sol- 
diers, 13. 

Adams,  .Jdlm  Quiiicy,  his  mental  cul- 
ture, 70;  classilieation  of  words  used 
by,  108;  "the  last  of  the  Ad- 
amses," i254. 

Adams,  liev.  Dr.,  Choato's  pastor,  215, 
■'i-2il;  on  Choate's  treatment  ,>(  others, 


]  Ashburton,  Lord,  action  in  the  Caro- 
line affair,  IS.J;  with  WVhster,  nego- 
tiates tlie  (ireyon    treaty,   185;   ap- 
pearance, 423. 
Ashburton  treaty,  185,  407,  415,  421. 


225;  consurcd  for  writing,'  "The 
Suuthside  View,"  .329;  commended 
for  preaching  the  gospel,  3.i(». 
Adjectives,  value  i.f,  learned  by  study- 
ing botany,  98;  did  not  worry 
Choate,  401. 
Advocate,   duty  and  privilege  of,  20; 

the  jury,  described,  49. 
"Age  of  the  Pilgrims,"  the,  229-231. 
Allen,  Cliarles,  23i|,  391. 
America,   advantages   of  life  in,  con- 
trasted  with   those  of  Europe,  140 
141. 
Andrew,  John  A.,  409. 
Anglo-Saxon  langiuige,  not  adapted  to 
higher  forms  of  expression,  80;  prob- 
able effect  of  its  exclusive  use,  88; 
English  reduced  to,  an  unspeakable 
calamity,  95;    Anglo-Saxon    words 
used  by  distinguished  scholars,  101 
107-111. 
Appleton,  William,  230. 
Argyll,  Duke  of,  suggestion  as  to  hu- 
man action,  395,  396. 


Bacon,  Lord,  Ben  Jonson's  tribute  to, 
300. 
i  Bancroft,  George,  409. 
Banks,  X.  I'.,  230. 
Bartlett,  Sidney,  236. 
Bates,  Isaac  C.,  277. 
i  Bell,  .Joseph  M.,  enters  the  arinv,  202; 
I      death,  203. 
Benjamin,  Park,  109. 
Benton,  Thomas  IE,  denounces  Web- 
ster's course  in   the   McLeod   case, 
174. 
Bible,  importance  of  study  of,  91;  in 

schools,  214. 
Biogra()liy,  uses  of,  220. 
Blair,  Hugh,  respectable  in  his  stvle, 
223. 

Blowers,  Sampson  S.,  assists  in  the  de- 
fense of  British  soldiers,  13. 
Boundary  di-^putu  between  Rfassachu- 

setts  anil  Kliode  Island,  50,  410,  424. 
Boutwell,  (Jeorgc  S.,  230. 
Boyden,  Dr.,  letter  from,  307-311;  in 

college  with  Choate,  307;  a  prophecy 

and  its  fuliillment,   309;  estimate  of 

Choate,  311. 
Briggs,  (Jeorge  N.,  230. 
Brougham,  Lord,  revision  of  speech  in 

the  Queen's  case,  90;  classineafion 

of  words  used  by,  110;  Macaulay's 

spite  for,  219. 


454 


INDEX, 


Brown,    Ri'V.    Friinci",     prosidcnt    of 

Dartiniiiiili  ('ollci;i',  'J-IO,  ii.")?. 
Br«wn,  I'idlisM.r,  ao,  5;i,  54,  l.j8,  192, 

2(14,  210,  220,  241. 
Bialuinan,  Juiiies,  coinpliiiK'Hts  Clioate 

54,  177;  part  in  the  McLeod  dubati', 

174. 
Biinyan,  Jdlin,  t'loqiu'iicp  of,  70;  not  a 

classical  xlioiar,  7!t;  an  exceptional 

writer  of  English,  SO. 
Burke,    Kdniiind,    and    Erkskino,  2S; 

cl.ussilieatlon  of  words  used  by.  111; 

stylo  in  speakin;,',  121,  122;  CLoate's 

o]iinion  of,  428. 
Burlini,'ani(',  Anson,  236. 
Burns,  Koburt,    his    father's    advice, 

2G4. 
Bush,  (Jcorfic,  34G. 
Butler,  Hen  janiin  !•".,  23G. 
Butlur,  Charles,  22:i. 
Byron,  Lord,  l'a>iidious  taste  of,  07. 

Calhoun,  John  C,  surprise  at  Choate's 
eloquence,  200. 

Canipliell,  Lord  John,  classification  of 
words  u<ed  liy,  1 11. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  a  detractor  of  Scott's 
novels,  142. 

Caroline,  affair  of  the,  173-176,  179, 
182-18 1. 

Carpenter,  Matt.  IL,  as  to  Choate's  ef- 
forts to  perfect  his  memory,  64  ; 
letter  from,  293-298:  studies  law 
with  Cho.'ite,  293;  Choato  the  supe- 
rior of  \Vel>>ter.  29.");  anecdotes,  29.j- 
298. 

Catron,  Judire,  quoted,  54,  420. 

Chapman,  (^hief  Justice,  on  Banyan's 
olo(|ucnce,  70. 

Character,  formation  of,  73. 

Charity,  a  privileged  subject,  295. 

Chatham,  Lord,  a  clew  to  his  mental 
tasks,  58  ;  "a  great  and  celebrated 
name,"  413. 

Child,  Linus,  i91. 

Choate,  David,  father  of  Rufus,  2. 

Choate,  David,  2;  letters  to,  241-252. 

Choate,  Francis,  1. 

"  Choate  Island,"  liufus  Choate's  birth- 
place, 238. 


Choate,  Rufus,  ancestry.  1;  birth,  2; 
boyiiood,  2;  coll.-e  life,  3,  241-252, 
2(;2-2il(;,  307,  30S,  :!ll-34il,  351-360; 
a  law  student,  3,  3ii0;  admitted  to 
practice,  3;  liegins  practice  at  Dan- 
vers,  4;  marria;;e,  4:  moves  to  .Salem, 
4;  menilier  of  li^'i>ialure  and  state 
Senator,  4;  elected  to  Coni;ress,  4; 
settles  in  Boston,  4;  early  compari- 
son with  Webster,  5:  practice  in 
criminal  cases,  7,  8:  lefj;al  enthusi- 
asm, 9,  26;  habits  of  study,  2!*; 
power  of  memory,  30-32:  keen  pen- 
etration, 33-38;  interviewiu!,' a  jury- 
man, 38;  number  of  his  art;uments, 
42;  nuinnerof  examininf^  witnesses, 
43,  44,  47;  unjust  criticisms,  47,  252; 
a  man  of  ideas,  51 ;  a  most  relentless 
inquisitor  after  facts,  52;  early  ef- 
forts at  the  bar,  53;  ii  master  of  the 
patlii'tic,  53:  lirst  sjH'ech  in  Congress, 
54;  effect  of  his  patlin>^,  57;  forensic 
rhetoric  his  j^reat  ^tudy,  5M ;  habits 
of  readiufT,  03,  64;  efl'orts  to  improve 
his  memory,  64;  faith  in  study,  05; 
an  untiring  worker,  65;  discovers  an 
article  by  Do  (Juincey,  66;  sjiecial 
studies,  08;  on  improvement,  0:i-71; 
advice  to  a  student,  71,  72;  on  the 
formation  fif  charactir,  73-78;  clas- 
sical studies,  79;  solicitude  as  to 
choice  and  use  of  words,  96;  study 
of  words,  97-99;  vocabulary,  100- 
106,  378,  370;  classilication  of  words 
usedb; ,  102, 103;  variations  of  style, 
112;  long  sentences,  113,  367,  effects 
of  his  eloquence,  115,  231;  "(low- 
ers of  speech,"  115;  indisposition  to 
revise  his  arj^uments,  118,  119,  259; 
loufT  ar^'umonts,  124;  a  trying  case, 
125-127;  style  in  sjieakin;;,  and  its 
effect,  128-130;  travels  in  Kurope  — 
extracts  from  his  journal,  130-139; 
taste  for  music,  141;  defends  Scott 
and  his  novels,  142;  on  Kossuth, 
146-149;  euloLcy  of  Webster,  150- 
166;  preparation  for  service  in  Con- 
gress, 157;  lost  speeches,  158;  rank 
as  a  statesman,  15!i;  ojiposes  annex- 
aliuu  of  Texas,  160,  4U8;  advocates 


IXDKX. 


4G5 


-71; 
the 


n  jirotective  tariff,  liil-172;  drffiids 
W(l)>lii*s  course  in  tiic  Mi'l.cdd  case, 
175-177;  Uiuliaiian'-;  iiniiiiliiiu'nt, 
177;  siipport.s  tiic  Ki'iikmIimIiIi'  .Iiis- 
ticcliill,  184  ;  urines  tlie  coulinnatioii  , 
of  l\w  Asliliiirton  treaty,  18'),  407;  ' 
favorsa  iiatimuil  liank,  ISo-l'jI;  liis 
sjioecli  iiiterniptoil  liy  Mr.  Clay, 
l'J2;  liis  ri'iilies,  l!tj;  cliaraeter  (if 
his  argiiinciit,  l'J3;  relin's  Inmi  the 
Senate,  !',)(!;  returns  tu  the  imifcs- 
sion,  liMi;  ileelinesa  i>r(ife-<>(ir>iii|)  in 
Caniliriiiire  Law  SilionI,  HiG;  de-  ' 
dines  jiulicial  iionurs,  I'.iii,  ;i(i',i,  U\>  ;  , 
ohjcctions  to  his  aeeeptanee  of  ju- 
dicial olliee,  ]'.t7,  JU'J ;  character  as 
a  lawyer,  ]'.i8;  his  last  ca>e,  l!l!»; 
death,  •2m);  l.ive  of  tlie  I'nion,  '2110; 
feard  a  civil  war,  201;  reineseiittd 
in  the  war  of  the  Uriiellion.  202,  2o:!: 
contrasted  with  Macaulay,  204;  use 
of  foreign  terms,  211,  212;  niethoils 
of  work,2i:i;  on  the  llilile  in  seiupols, 
214;  a  nioriiini;'s  lessim,  21.");  tem- 
per in  debate,  217,  21'.':  as  a  critic, 
222,22:!;  trealmeiit  of  others,  22.'>, 
2!t.'!.  2!t4;  oration,  "The  A'^c  «i  the 
riljirims,''  221) -2.il;  in  Massachu- 
setts Convention  to  revise  the  (.'(insti- 
tution, 23.");  "  l>id  you  lind  anychi>l- 
crn  there  V  "  2.'i8;  early  letters,  241- 
2."iO:  a  teacher  at  Washinuton,  24'J ; 
liandwritinjr,  251,  2.r2,  .')25,  :i!iy;  un- 
scllishness,  25.'{  ;  ari^uiiient  in  the  ' 
Methodist  Church  case,  257-25'J; 
speech  in  the  Si'iiate,  200  ;  Calhoun's 
surprise  at  his  eloiiiieiice,  2ilO  :  a  col- 
leirc  joke,  2(!2;  a  colleire  speech,  2():i- 
21)0;  treatment  of  a  bad  witness,  207; 
estimate  of  liiiman  f^lory.  2(J!I;  oufrht 
to  have  been  a  (ireek  professor,  277; 
a  scholar  by  instinct,  280;  as  a  theo- 
logian, 231;  relish  for  study,  281, 
282;  peculiarities  of  his  pMiius,  282, 
28.3;  love  for  the  law,  284-280;  d  •- 
votion  to  his  clients,  287,  288,  322, 
398;  anecdotes,  287,  288;  entliusi- 
nsm,  289,  2!i();  charity,  204 ;  awe  of  ; 
Webster,  2it5,  iileasai'itries,  2',)0-2'J8, 
314-310;    mastery  over  the  melaii-  i 


choly,  208:  influence  onynniif;  men, 
300,  .fOl,  ;!0:i;  not  a  parly  l.jider, 
311:  unlike  other  men,  :ill  :  persdual 
ap|iearance,  ;ii:i,  ;i70v37l;  in  social 
intercourse,  317;  nuinnerof  ndtlrcss- 
iiii^  a  jury,  317,  318;  schnlarship, 
3211.  .iL'l;  methods  of  practice,  .•i22- 
■'i25  ;  the  students'  seriiiade,  327, 
328;  o|.inion  of  Chillin^worth.  328; 
niidnij;ht  recreation,  320;  "  The  Gos- 
pel .tccordin^'  to  Choato,"  330;  at 
Webster's  funeral,  310;  respect  of 
Kniclish  lawyers  for,  .'i:i2;  anecdotes, 
332-;i;;8;  his  libr.iry,  :;:i4,  330;  the 
ileal  seh(dar,  ;;44;  an  early  riser, 
348;  jiolitieal  principles,  .'KiO,  351; 
views  as  toabolitiiiii  of  shivery,  351  ; 
in  s<  hiilarship,  himself  his  (mly  par- 
allel, 354;  his  conversation,  30:i,  ;i73; 
love  of  epithets,  304;  use  of  adjec- 
tives, 305,  .301!,  401;  developiiuiit  of 
his  armimeiit,  :!07;  power  over  .i  jnrv, 
308;  manner  at  the  bar,  3ti0,  380;  a 
nia'iter  of  idose  lo^'ical  rt'a-oiiin^', 
370;  abstracted  bearing;,  .'171;  criti- 
cisms (if  cout'iiqioraries,  1177 ;  a  be- 
liever in  Christ  ianily,  .'!81;  Webster's 
tribute  to  his  style,  ;i80  ;  cainpai;;ii 
speech  at  Hunker  Hill  in  1840,  ;i87; 
speech  at  Concord  in  1844,  388;  lec- 
ture on  the  Sea,  380;  plea  for  town 
pivernmenis,  ;i80,  :i!lO;  in  the  Whi,^' 
State  Convention  in  1847,  .'iOO,  30! ; 
supports  comjironiise  :ueasures  of 
18.50,  .'!'J5;  opium  vs.  electricity,  3!I7; 
aneeddtes,  .■5!i8-4n5;  in  the  Wlii;; 
National  Convention  of  18."i2,  400; 
case  of  the  slave  child  Med,  400, 
407;  letters  to  Sumner,  414-430;  re- 
marks before  the  Circuit  Court  on 
death  of  Webster,  43.1-452. 

Ciioate,  liufus,  .Ir.,  in  the  war  of  the 
Ueb(lli(in,  202;  death,  203. 

Clioate,  Thomas,  1. 

Choate,  Washini,'ton,  340, 

Choate,  William,  2. 

Cicero,  the  defense  of  criminals,  10; 
the  orator's  knowled^'e,  CI;  a  great 
master  of  speech,  08  ;  the  orator's 
style,  'JO;  Clioate's  opinion  of,  330. 


456 


INDEX. 


Classical  study,  cfTect  of,  93. 
Cliissies,  study  of,  7U-'J5;  iiei'cs-iity  of, 

!t2. 
Clay,  Henry,  I'fTorts  to  cultivate  a  iiai)it 

of  speaiiin;,',  5'J:  opposes  auiR'xatiou 

of  Ti'xaf,  liid;  iutciTujits  Mr.  Clioate, 

l'J-2;  iiis  apol„^'y,  VM. 
Congress,  a  siiort  term  in,  a  satrilicc, 

im. 

Conscience  and  Cotton  Whigs,  3!)0,  391. 

Constitution  of  the  I'uited  States,  con- 
tested powers  of,  188. 

Counsel  necessary  in  criminal  cases,  11. 

Court  Stre(;t,  No.  4,  40!). 

Cowley  and  Jlilton,  ■'!;!."). 

Creole',  The,  ca-e  of,  419. 

Criminals,  rights  of,  21,  22. 

Croker,  J.  W.,  and  Maeaulay,  218. 

Crosl)y,  Nathan,  letter  frnni,  .'UO-'J.')! ; 
in  college  wiih  (,'hoate,  341;  an  early 
interview,  348. 

Crowinshield,  F.  15.,  230. 

Curtis,  Benjamin  II.,  Judge  of  Massa- 
chusetts Suiirenie  Court,  197;  pre- 
siiles  at  a  conipromiso  meeting  in 
18'.0,  ;194. 

Cushiiig,  Caleb,  classification  of  words 
used  hy,  109;  speech  in  the  McLeod 
case,  ISO. 

Gushing,  Luther  S.,  409. 

Dana,  Richard  II.,  Jr.,  on  the  source 
of  Choate's  power,  41;  in  Massachu- 
setts Convention,  230. 

Dartmouth  College,  and  the  legislative 
controversy,  353;  deposition  of  Pres- 
ident Wheelock,  357 ;  the  new  presi- 
dent, 357;  attack  on  the  societies' 
libraries,  358  ;  rejjulse,  358  ;  the 
"  university"  a  pulitical  fraud,  358; 
its  collai)se,  358;  pursuit  of  knowl- 
edge under  diflicultics,  359;  loyalty 
of  the  students,  359. 

Dawes,  Henry  L.,  230. 

De  Quincey,  Thomas,  denies  the  author- 
ship of  an  ossaj',  GO;  afterwards  finds 
the  manuscrint,  GO. 

Derivatives,  classes  of,  102,  103. 

Disraeli,  licnjamin,  remark  on  Macau- 
lay's  temper,  218. 


Dexter,  Franklin,  urges  Choato  to  de- 
fend I'rofessor  Webster,  Hi. 

Kdinunds,  John  W.,  comment  on  the 
McLeod  case,  181,  182. 

Electricity,  uses  and  ])ossibiIitics  of, 
384,  385;  the  sources  of  bodily  move- 
ment, 390;  r.i.  opium,  397. 

Elliot,  Samuel  A.,  2:i(i. 

Elotiuence,  JIackintosh's  definition  of, 
121. 

Emerson,  R.  W.,  analysis  of  "Ilinry 
VIII.,"  81;  Mimtaigiie's  choice  of 
words,  97. 

Eminent  men  niisuiiderstodd,  44. 

English  reduced  to  Saxon  a  calamity, 
95. 

Erskinc,  Lord,  on  the  duty  of  the  ad- 
vocate, 11;  defense  of  Tom  Paine,  a 
(piestion  of  right,  11;  his  claim  to 
remembrance,  11;  his  note-liook, 
28;  and  Hurke.  28;  his  style  formed 
bj'  studying  Milton  and  Hurke,  80; 
classiliciition  of  words  used  by,  111; 
length  of  his  s])eeches,  127. 

Eur(i|)e, comparative  advantages  of  liv- 
ing in,  139,  140. 

Evarts,  William  JI.,  classification  of 
Words  used  by,  109;  aneciloteof,  400. 

Everett,  I'.dward,  opinion  of  Ciioate's 
persuasive  )i(iwers,  54;  classification 
of  words  used  by,  108;  appointed 
minister  to  England,  415,  417. 

Fancher,  Enoch  L.,  letter  from,  255- 
200;  engages  Choate  in  the  Metho- 
dist Church  case,  259;  asks  him  to 
revise  his  argument,  259;  his  reply, 
259;  opinion  of  Clioate  as  a  lawyer 
and  orator,  200. 

Faneuil  Hall,  refused  for  a  Webster 
reception,  391;  "Faneuil  Hall  — 
Open,"  394. 

Fields,  James  T.,  letter  from,  299-300. 

Forensic  speaker,  rule  for,  123. 

Fox,  Mr.,  British  minister,  173;  sug- 
gests rule  of  personal  immunity  in 
tiie  McLeod  case,  174,  175;  misin- 
formed in  regard  to  the  McLeod  case, 
179. 


INDEX. 


457 


Franklin,  Benjamin,  a  writor  of  good 
Kngii^li,  7'J;  his  .'■tylo  forniwl  by  a 
study  of  "  The  Spti-tator,"  80. 

Froude,  .lames  Anthony,  cla.ssilication 
of  words  ii>cd  Ijv,  llU. 

(leniiis  is  a  .u'ciiins  for  indnstry,  :i8:{. 
Gilii'lt,  EdwanI  li.,  an<i(loti>  hy,  :vi\~ 

;i;JD. 
Gladstone,    \\.    V..,    ila>.-ili(  ation    of 

words  used  hy,  111;  ast-ribis  a  dual 

oriyin  to  the  Urreks,  8^]. 
Gray,  John  C,  '->:J0. 
Greek  art,  (Ievi'lo|iniiiit  of,  83. 
Greek  lantfuaici',  a  <(iiii|iosite  Ian,!iuai;e, 

84;  intolerant  of  foreign  words,  84; 

development    of,    84;  ii>e   of  Greek 

words  by  distinguished  authors,  lu8. 
Greeks,  aneient,    studied  no   language 

but  their  own,  8-J  :  of  dual  origin,  8:J; 

primitive     eondilion     of     the    arts 

among,  83. 
Greeley,      Iloraee.      appciirame    and 

speeeli  at  Coneord  in  1844,  .'iSS. 
Greene,   General    Nalhanael,    quoted, 

20.5. 

Hamilton,  Andrew,  defense  of  Zenger, 
14. 

Hardin,  Benjamin,  effect  of  Choatc'.'! 
eloquence,  TA. 

Harrison,  I'resident,  185. 

Harvey,  Peter,  '-VM. 

Hellenic  race,  8^!. 

Henry,  Patrick,  stmly  of  oratory,  .")8. 

Herbert,  George,  wnrih  of  a  good  life, 
204. 

Hillard,  George  S..  2:30,  .^0•3.  400,  410. 

Hitchcock,  j.'ev.  Uoswell  D.. impressions 
of  Choate,  120,  LW. 

Holland,  Lady,  invites  Macaulay  to 
visit  Holland  House,  220;  Macau- 
lay's  criticism  ot,  221. 

Holland,  Lord,  221. 


speaker,  01;  what  is  a  perfect  style, 

"JO. 
Johnson,    Ueverdy,    classiliealion    of 

words  used  by,  109. 
Jollxm,  Bell,   (piuted,  80,  .'lO.j. 
Juris|)iudeiU(',  the.Iu^tinian  delinilion, 

;jo. 

Kellogg,  Brainerd,  classification  of 
word-  ii-ed  by  leading  authors,  10;i, 
105,  108-111." 

Knight,  Charles,  opinion  of  Shake- 
speare's learning,  80. 

Kossuth,  Loui.-,  visit  to  .Vmerica,  140; 
elo(|iieiice,  140-141);  the  sympathy 
he  awakeiieil,  118,  14 J, 

Lannirtiue's  choice  of  authors,  01. 

Latin  language,  uni\i'rsality  of,  87; 
variety  and  fertility  of,  87;  its  use 
in  the  study  (r|  nuidern  languages, 
U'i;  use  of  Latin  words  by  leading 
aiitlKus,  l(t.S-lll. 

Law,  the  study  (d',  2.J ;  {."h(iate'.s  lovo 
for,  284,  28."),  .•i04  ;  the  expres-ioii  of 
the  highest  justi<e  u{  the  Slate,  284; 
the  connecting  link,  284;  the  llnuiun 
law,  285  ;  its  a|iplic.ition,  280;  its 
miije»ty,  287  :  Iloolier's  metaphor, 
3(M. 

Lawrence.  .Abbott,  minister  to  F.ng- 
land,  ;j-)2;  in  Whig  State  Conven- 
tion, .7.11. 

Learned  men,  the  hope  iuid  strength  of 
the  nation,  205. 

Lord,  Judge,  conversation  on  Profes- 
sor U'ebster's  case,  17;  in  Massa- 
chusetts Convention.  2.'i0. 

Loring,  Charles  G.,  210. 

Loring,  Edward  G.,  400. 


Macaiilay,  Lord,  secures  system  of 
English  education  for  India,  80,  00; 
on  the  structure  of  Milton's  lines, 
97;  classitication  of  word.s  used  by, 
110;  contrasted  with  Choate,  204; 
his  self-esteem,  205,  200;  his  strong- 
est claim  to  remembrance,  200;  a 
short  practice  at  the  bar,  207;  a  flow 
Johnson,     Dr.,    criticism    of    a    fine  ;      writer,  210;  protests  agaiiLst  the  use 


India,  success  of  English  schools  in, 
89;  imi>ortaiice  of  Macanlay's  serv- 
ice for,  00. 


4GS 


INDEX. 


(pf  f(irci;jn  tiTius,  211;  on  tlip  study 
iif  till!  l>il)li',  214;  want  nf  revcreiicf, 
21ti  ;  and  tlie  Methodist  prfaihcr, 
217;  tcni|HT,  -'lit,  •JJO;  visits  td  lid- 
land  llciiM'.  --'jn,  •_>;;!;  want  of  fnl- 
iii;;  for  otlaTs,  -I-IX.  "iJS;  his  rcadin:;, 
2;22;  a  severe  critic,  22-1;  sclf-landa- 
tii'ns,  221  ;  fniitnicnt  of  admirers, 
221,  225;  conipari'd  with  Clmalc, 
27(1-274. 

Mackenzie  IJehellion,  tlic,  173. 

Mackintosh,  Sir  Janice,  dclinition  of 
('l(ii|iience,  121. 

JIcLeod,  Alexander,  case  of,  17''J:  his 
lil)erati(ni  demanded  hy  (ireat  Itrit- 
ain,  17.'t-lS4;  del»atc  on,  in  Con- 
(,'ress,  174;  course  pursiiod  liy  Wcb- 
Mer  in,  174,  178-180;  trial  and  ac- 
(|Mitial,  I,s:J. 

]\IanM,  Horace.  40it. 

M.iiisliidd,  Lord,  retort.  28;  study  of 
oratory,  (10. 

Marsh,  (leor-c  P.,  100,  10.3;  letter 
from,  375— 'J82. 

Marsh,  James,  340. 

Marshall.  Chief  Justice,  cla-^sideation 
of  words  used  liy,  108. 

Mason,  Jeremiali,  Clioaie'.-;  estimate  of, 
377. 

Massachusetts  Convention  to  revise  the 
(Vinstituticn,  235-237. 

Massachusetts  rt.  liliode  Island,  50, 
410.  424. 

Mechanic  arts,  progress  of,  104-100. 

Methodist  Church  case,  Choato's  rela- 
tion to,  118;  his  study  of  the  case, 
250;  his  brief,  258;  his  art;unicnt, 
257-259. 

Jlilton's  use  of  words,  100. 

Montf^oniery,  Kohert,  persecuted  by 
Macatilay,  218. 

Jloral  lirmiiess,  essential  to  success, 
205. 

Morton,  Marcus,  230. 

Miir|i!iy,  Henry  C,  conception  of  free 
trade,  171. 

Nati<inal  crimes,  responsibility  for,  175. 

"Xe^'ro  I'lot,"  the,  14. 

Nesmith,  George  W.,  letter  from,  201- 


2(>9;  a  colle;;e  joke,  202;  journey  to 
llaiiuver  with  Webster,  Clioate,  and 

Woiidbury.  2ii7 ;  tluir  conversation, 
203  ;  sla;;e-coach  n  i  iiatinns,  208; 
la.st  interview  w  itli  Clioate,  209. 

Oliver,  Henry  K.,  letter  from,  352-301 ; 
transferred  froni  Harvarcl  to  l)art- 
niouth,  353;  lir>t  acpiaiiitance  with 
Choate,  353;  |ia--ai:e  de-crdiim;  Ci- 
cero, applied  to  Choate,  354;  life  ut 
Dartmouth,  357-3(iO. 

Orator,  natural,  or  biprn,58;  olliceof,  00. 

I'aitic,  .lames  A.,  anecdote  of  Ch<iate 
and  Weli-ler,  332. 

I'ark,  I'rofessor,  would  have  maile  a 
j;reat  lawyer,  281. 

Parker,  I-',.  (J.,  a  liiint  fur  a  word,  07. 

Parker,  Theodore,  331. 

Parsons,  Tiieophilus,  the  defense  of  the 
criminal,  13;  foundations  of  Choate's 
knowled;,'e  of  the  law,  31). 

Pate's  ease,  duty  of  enunsel  i.i.  9. 

Pathetic,  inliuence  of  the,  115. 

Peck,  Kev.  (ieiirjie,  defendant  in  Meth- 
odist Church  case,  225. 

Pelase-ians,  the,  83. 

Perkins,  >I.  ('.,  triltule  from,  411. 

Perley,  Chief  Justice,  opinion  of 
Choate's  style  in  speakiufj,  123. 

Persiflage,  a  bit  of,  40. 

Phillips,  .Stephen  ('.,  391. 

Phillips,  Weiiileil,  8,  9. 

I'hicnix  liank  trial,  incident  of,  31. 

Pinkney,  William,  declaimed  in  pri- 
vate, 59;  habit  of  memorizing,  72; 
classilication  of  words  used  by,  108. 

Pitt,  William,  preparatory  studies  in 
oratory,  58  ;  study  of  words,  97  ; 
classilication  of  words  used  l)y.  111. 

Poetry  and  prose,  their  alliance,  51. 

Pratt,  I'.dwanl  Kllerton,  anecdotes,  05  ; 
Choate's  fears  of  a  civil  war,  201. 

Puritans,  their  trials  and  triumphs,  74- 
77. 

Putnam,  IJov.  A.  P.,  impressions  of 
(,'lioatt,  232-254;  interview  with 
Choate,  234  ;  visits  Choate's  birth- 
place, 237. 


jyni'X. 


459 


(Jiiiiu-y.  Josiah,  Jr.,  dcfens*  of  Briti-h 

soMicrs,  1;J. 

Hciiilinu',  vacations  for,  fi-l. 
KiMiif.lial.le  Jii-ti>p  Hill,  IM. 
Ulii'ioricul  decoration,   iin|N>rtancc  of, 
122, 

Sallnii^tall,  I,overctt,  anecdote  of,  ,3!t'J. 

Saiib'Mii,  i;.  1).,  r.'o.llr.  tion",  .3-_'7-:{;J-i ; 
early  nc(iiiaiiitiin<-<?  with  <.'lioato,  .'127; 
Uilvisoil  to  ri^ail  < 'lil!liii::w..rtli,  ■iJ'*; 
visits  Clioatc.  ;j-2'.':  at  U'<-!>'t<'r's  fn- 
Ui-Tal,  .'l^iO;  aiii'<."lo!i:-i,  ;JT2,  ^J-i-J. 

.Saxoii  laniiiia!,'!'.     See  Aii;;U»-.Saxon. 

Saxons,  the,  Hi<. 

Siiirlctt,  Sir  .laini's,  a<Ivocate<«  counsel 
for  ]iri-"MiT-,  12. 

S(lin|,irslii|),  ((.niiwtition  in,  -347. 

.Sciiiiiar,  tile  slini-^fiil,  2>U. 

Si'ott,  Sir  \Valtt>r,  ili^paraiT'^l  liy  Car- 
iylf,  142;  d.f.n.l.-.l  t.y  Clioate,  U2- 
Hii. 

Slialvi<]ioaro,  William,  a  cl.is'-ipal 
sciiolar,  .SO;  lien  .loii^on'«  ^ayinf,', 
80;  ('olL'ridiri''s  cjpinim,  *>•  Cliarlcs 
Kiii^^lif  s  ()i)inioii,  Hi>  :  Kiner-on's 
niial\>isof  ••  Iliiiry  VIII  ,"■  .si;  au- 
tliorship  of  "  Henry  VI.,"  81  ; 
adopti'el  t Ik;  work  older  autliors,  82; 
use  of  words,  1(M>. 

Rliaw,  ('liii'f  .lii>ticf,  iliar.'e  in  Tirrell's 
case,  7;  early  iinpro--ions  fif  Clioatp, 
53;  Clioate's  reverence  for,  .31.'):  Iiis 
way  of  oxprpssiiii,'  disapproval,  .31."); 
Clioate's  remark,  •31.'>:  an  "  aaree- 
ablc "  venlicf,  4'>''i;  npinion  in  the 
case  of  the  slave  child  Med,  407. 

Shorilan,  11.  IJ.,  needed  reliableness  of 
character.  2i!4. 

Siniili,  Cy nis  1'.,  a  colleire  serenade. 
.'l-JT. 

Smith,  .Sydney,  on  coun-el  for  pri-fin- 
crs,  10;  classillcation  of  words  nsed 
by,  110;  adviee  to  .Macaulay,  218. 

"Social  I'rieiids,''  society  at  Dart- 
nioiitli,  Choate'.s  address  bi-foro,  2';3. 

Somerbv,  G.  A.,  at  Choate's  b'rave, 
431.  " 

Spring,  Rev.  Gardiner.  210. 


Stanley,  Arthur  Penrbyn,  classification 

I       of  Words  li-ed  by,   1 1(1. 

I  Star  Uoute  trial,   h>n^  arguments  in, 
127. 
Stephens,    Alexander    II.,    opinion  of 
Clioate'.s   eloipience,   bh;    rescues    a 
I      lost  speech,  l.'jS. 
Stevenson,  ,).  Thoinas,  2.1(1. 
Storrs,  liev.  IJiehanls  .S.,  classillcation 
of  Words  ii>ed  by,  ID'.I;    litter  frotn, 
275-2'.t2;    lirsl    impressions  of  .Mr. 
(  hoate,  277,  2TS;  student  in  lii>  id- 
ti<c-,  27!t. 
Siory,  William  W.,  letter  fium,  ;!il2- 
'      374. 
I  Stron^j,    William,  llu;    coniparixiii    of 

f 'hcate  and  Macaulay,  270-272. 
I  Suffolk   liar,   proi-eedlnLTs  on   death  of 
Choale,  ;{!t-12;  on  death  of  Wel)-ter, 
'      433. 
Sumner,  Charles,  interest    in  I'rofess.ir 
Webster's   ca-e,   III;   da^silieaf ion   of 
;      Words  used  by,  lOll ;  early  acquainl- 
aiice    with    Choate,    408;  at    No.  4 
Court  Street,  410;    advocates  (|uali- 
(led  riirlit  of  search,  410;  on  the  ti<e 
of   adjectives,    411;   letters   to,   from 
Choate.  414. 
Swift,   .loiiathan,   describes  a   jierfect 
St  vie,  'M. 
I 

Tariff,  protective,  101-172. 
Ta-te,  ini]irovemi'iit  of.  liii,  70. 
Teutonic  lani^iiaLTe,  40l  ;  percontauo  of 
words  used  by  leiidiii;^'  authors,  108- 

!    111. 

Texas,  annexation  of,  1."'). 
Tlioniii'on,  I-aac  Grant,  on   the  study 

of  forensic  elo(|uence,  W.). 
Tirrell's  case,  7,  '.Wr,,  3(1(1.  .'i'.iS,  3!)!). 
I  Tracy,  iJev.    .lose;,!  ,     >n    Choate's    re- 
'      li^rions  character,  ;i40. 
Translation  as  an  intellectual  disci])line, 
07. 
'  Trevelyan's  Life  of  Macaulay,  SS,  204- 
'      222,270,271. 
Turner,  Sharon,  the  power  and  copious- 
ne-s  of  the  Aii,Li;lo-Sa.\on  language, 
100,  107. 
Tyler,  Presiilent.  18.-). 


400 


INDEX. 


Ipliain,  Charlis  W.,  230. 

Valriiliiic,  Dciij.iiniii  I".,  199. 

Vail  Itiii'cii,  Mai'iiii,  liil). 

Vail  r'litt,  .Id-liiia   .M.,  ili'scription  of 

■  Clioatii' a  oration,  22'.>--2M. 

Washliurii,  Kiiiory,  necessity  of  coun- 
sel ill  ciiiiiiiial  ea>es,  l.'i;  olijeclioii  to 
fanciful  iloeripliniis,  47;  rt'collcc- 
tioiis  of  Clioate,  Mi'li-dn. 

Webster,  haiiiel,  early  comparison  with 
Clidate,  5;  adiniralinn  of  Clioate,  (1; 
counsel  in  I  lie  White  niiinler  case, 
10  ;  episiide  in  the  I'lueiiix  Ilaiik 
ttial.  ■11;  plea<linj;s  before  juries  his 
miu'litiesi  effciits,  4;J;  classiiieutiun  of 
wonls  used  liy,  109;  de-erihcs  an  ora- 
tor, 114;  ellcet  of  (hiiate's  el<iipieiue 
on,  114,  115;  "flowers  of  sju'ech," 
115;  at  (.Jueliec,  ll(i;  "  Kn^'laiul's 
niorninj;  driiin,"  110,  117;  revision 
of  distoiirses,  117;  olijectidii  fo  Latin 
words,  nil;  the  riyniniith  oration, 
120  ;  ne(|uirenient  of  style,  120; 
Choate's  eulnijy  of,  150-151! ;  and  an- 
nexation of  Ti'xas,  11)0;  course  pur- 
sued in  Mcl.eod's  case,  174;  dcfi'iid- 
0(1  by  Clioate,  175-177  ;  nej,'otiates 
the  Ashburton  treaty,  185;  journey 
to  Hanover  with  Choato  and  Wood- 
bury, 2(i7;  a  stai,'e-eoach  recitation, 
2<i3;  preparation  of  cases,  29(1;  the 
(ireek  Testament  vs.  the  Constitu- 
tion, .'i.iS  ;  on  Choate's  style,  38G; 
plea  for  liarinony  in  Wlii;,'  State  Con- 
vention, 3!)1:  7th  of  March  speech, 
392;  shut  out  from  Faiieuil  Hall, 
393;  "Faiicuil  Hail  — Open,"  394; 
Choate's  handwriting,  394. 


Webster,  Fletcher,  331,  393. 

Webster,  I'rofessor,  case  of.  15;  Mr. 
l>e.\ter's  ihtcrot  in,  10;  tries  to  i-e- 
ciire  Choate's  services,  10,  17;  Suin- 
mr  urj;es  Clioate  to  iiiidertaku  tho 
defense,  10;  why  he  refused,  10;  pro- 
poseil  line  (if  defense,  18-20;  rejection 
by  Web>t(raiid  his  friend-.  19;  fail- 
ure of  thior}  presented  at  the  trial, 
20. 

Wliij;  Statu  Convention  of  1847,  390- 
392. 

Whiffs,  Coiuciciice  and  Cotton,  390, 
31)1. 

Whipple,  K.  I'.,  C!i(iate's  hi-'  ,  ( '  out- 
d(jor  study,  ti4;  Webster',  'jvision 
of  I'lymouth  oration,  120. 

White  murder  trial,  10. 

White,  Kichard  (iraiit,  on  aerjuirement 
of  styl(^  121',  121. 

Wilde,  Mr.  .histlce,  a  mot,  300;  "I 
suppose  yon  slept  widl,"  403. 

Wilson,  Henry,  the  riillii;,'  ^renins  in 
Massachusetis  Consciition  230;  his 
name  likely  to  grow  in  importance, 
405  ;  testimony  to  Choate's  clo- 
fpience,  400-4O8. 

Wiiislow,  IJev.  Hubbard.  412. 

Winslow,  .loliii,  letter  frinn,  383-413. 

Women  as  witnesses,  337. 

Woodbury,  Levi,  invited  to  deliver  an 
oration  at  HariiiKuith,  207  ;  stni;e- 
coacli  journey  with  Clioate  and  Wel>- 
ster,  207;  their  conversation,  208. 

Wright,  Silas,  100. 

Young  America,  no  new  thing  in  hi.s- 
tory,  32. 

Zcnger,  John  Peter,  case  of,  H. 


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